YELLOV 
ANGEL 


MART  STEWART  DAGGEIT 


. 


OLIVEr-PERCIVAL 

Infer 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 


JNthe  noon-day  sun  the  Celestial's 
white  garments  shone  spotless. 


BY 

MARY  STEWART  DAGGETT 

Author  of  "Maripossilla,"  "The  Broad  Aisle," 
"The  Higher  Court,"  etc. 

i 
ILLUSTRATED 


COPYRIGHT,    1914 
BY    BROWNE    &    HOWELL    COMPANY 


PUBLISHED.  APRIL,  19U 


THE    VAIL-BALLOU    COMPANT 
Einghamtoii,  New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


PS 


TO 

THE  MASTER  OF  TEMPLE  HILL 

AND  TO 

FRIENDS   OF   EARLIER    CALIFORNIA   DAYS 
WHO    DEPLORE    WITH    ME    THE    PASSING   OF 

"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL" 

M.  S.  D. 


524952 

UBR4RI 


The  author  acknowledges  permission 
from  "The  Outlook,"  New  York,  and 
from  "The  Los  Angeles  Times  Maga 
zine/'  Los  Angeles,  to  reprint  certain 
chapters  now  comprised  in  the  story 
of  THE  YELLOW  ANGEL. 


PREFACE 

WHETHER  the  present  Chinese  Repub 
lic  shall  stand  or  fall  is  but  a  matter  of 
suppositional  interest  when  compared  with 
ultimate  standards  that  will  undoubtedly  con 
trol  the  awakened  race.  China  is  no  longer 
"shut  in";  the  world  at  large  must  respect  its 
brand  in  the  universal  round-up  of  nations. 

Ernest  Francisco  Fenollosa  holds  that  a 
trite  opportunity  for  the  ignorant  is  to  declare 
that  "China  is  China."  He  then  continues, 
"That  is  enough  for  the  professed  sinologue. 
To  find  evidence  regarding  it  (China)  outside 
of  its  own  forbidding  records,  is  what  they 
never  ask.  'East  is  East  and  West  is  West, 
and  never  the  two  shall  meet/  so  runs  Kip 
ling's  specious  dictum;  and  American  orators 
use  it  to-day  to  aft'ect  our  treaty  legislation. 
But  the  truth  is  that  they  have  met,  and  they 
are  meeting  again  now ;  and  history  is  a  thou- 


PREFACE 

sand  times  richer  for  the  contact.  They  have 
contributed  a  great  deal  to  each  other,  and 
must  contribute  still  more;  they  interchange 
views  from  the  basis  of  a  common  humanity; 
and  humanity  is  thus  enabled  to  perceive  what 
is  stupid  in  its  insularity." 

Fenollosa's  words  are  adequate. 

The  author  of  THE  YELLOW  ANGEL  is  en 
couraged  by  their  sincerity;  and  the  simple 
story  of  "Sue  Chang"  shall  go  forth  with  the 
hope  that  it  may  in  some  measure  dispel  Oc 
cidental  prejudice. 

M.  S.  D. 
PASADENA,  CAL.,  March,  1914. 


CONTENTS 

THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    "THE  YELLOW  ANGEL" 15 

II    YEARS  AFTER 26 

III  THE  UNDERSTUDY 44 

IV  ALL  SAME  FAN-TAN 56 

V    THE  QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES 64 

VI  THE  LION  AND  THE  LAMB 105 

VII  THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM 119 

VIII  THE  COAT  OF  MANY  COLORS 135 

IX  His  DREAM  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 147 

THREE  HEATHEN  TALES  OF  THE  QUARTER 

THE  REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE 169 

THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  DRAGON 197 

THE  BLACK  LILT  ' .     .224 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

In  the  noon-day  sun  the  Celestial's  white  garments 
shone  spotless Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

His  starched  white  sacklet  and  apron  glistened  in 
the  California  sunshine 16 

Even  the  hens  of  the  chicken-yard  respected  him    .     23 
" Heap  lovely  little  man !     I  take  picture  with  him"     32 

"I   tell  my  fiends  back  China,   my  wheel  fly  all 
same  bird" 38 

"How  you  think  I  look?" 96 

Madam  Woo-Ho-Kee,  Yoc  "the  lotus-bud,"  and  the 
two  parakeets 176 

Woo-Ho-Kee  folded  his  arms  opulently  ....  192 
Handsome  Lem  Gay 198 

"Hop  Lee  loman  too  ploud!  she  too  smart  'cause 
that  little  son!" .  206 

Ah  Puck  was  very  happy.    It  was  a  distinction  to 
be  owned  by  the  dude  of  Chinatown    ....  208 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTBATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

The  jaws  of  the  great  Mongolian  dragon  stood  open 
with  the  fierce  charge  of  Lem  Gay's  golden  prod  .  218 

The  "Black  Lily"  had  dressed  for  the  last  act  of 
her  career 230 

Her  father,  of  lowest  caste — a  "water-rat"      .     .     234 

Hired  mourners,  bell-men,  and  gong  beaters  should 
rest  no  instant,  when  once  the  ghost  of  San  Lu 
had  been  given  up 232 

Moon  Dee,  the  slave  girl 224 


THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 


THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 


CHAPTER  I 

"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL" 

*'T  NO  understand!  I  no  understand!" 
1  said  Sue  Chang,  "The  Yellow  Angel." 
He  wound  a  long  black  queue  about  his  head ; 
plunged  brown,  shapely  hands  beneath  the 
flow  of  a  hydrant,  and  dried  them  on  a  fresh, 
coarse  towel.  When  he  moved  from  a  shelter 
ing  pepper  tree,  his  starched  white  sacklet 
and  apron  glistened  in  the  California  sun 
shine.  He  stood,  shading  his  eyes  as  he  gazed 
across  the  valley  and  beyond  to  outlying  hills 
that  rolled  between  the  country  and  the 
town. 

Chinese  New  Year  was  in  full  blast  in  the 
"City  of  Angels."  In  the  old  Quarter  the 
clang  of  gongs  proclaimed  wild  revels  and  Sue 
Chang  thought  he  heard  music.  For  one 

15 


16        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

happy  week  heathen  might  rage  and  imagine 
vain  things.  Golden-faced  aliens  owned  the 
smiling  land,  all  ignoring  bonds  of  trade  and 
service  to  feast  and  jabber  of  wives  and  chil 
dren  and  friends  in  the  old  home  at  the  other 
side  of  the  world.  "The  Yellow  Angel"  of 
Temple  Hill  was  alone  and  sad;  for  this  year 
he  took  no  active  interest  in  the  loud  festivi 
ties  of  the  great  holiday.  He  had  promised 
his  Mission  teacher  to  be  good ;  to  eschew  evil. 
His  lavender  silk  outing  garment  and  felt  Fe 
dora  hat  hung  on  hooks  in  his  tent-house, 
while,  earlier  in  the  day,  he  half-tearfully 
watched  a  neighbor's  cook  depart  for  the  Quar 
ter,  dressed  in  rich  attire.  He  again  softly 
sighed,  remembering  his  own  neglected  gala 
garb.  Above,  in  the  deep  blue  sky,  he  saw 
bird-shaped  kites  of  every  hue  and  knew  that 
"  Chinatown "  blazed  with  flags,  banners  and 
lanterns.  Sue  Chang's  soul  hungered  from 
afar.  It  was  hard  to  be  a  strict  Presbyterian 
when  even  birds  and  butterflies  seemed  to  be 
flying  in  quest  of  pleasure.  In  harmless  retro 
spect,  he  recalled  familiar  balconies  of  the 
Quarter,  hung  with  palms  and  flowers,  where 


S  starched  white  sacklet  and  apron 
glistened  in   the  California  sunshine. 


"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL"     17 

happy,  smiling  women  and  tiny  children  now 
completed  tiro  domestic  picture  for  Chinese 
carnival.  He  knew  that  Celestial  merchants 
chatted  on  every  corner,  while  privileged  boys 
shot  firecrackers  and  paraded  in  gorgeous 
trousers  and  royal  overgarments. 

Sue  Chang  could  not  forget  customs  dear  to 
his  hungry  heart.  "I  no  likey  not  see,"  he 
sadly  owned. 

It  appeared  that  only  the  Yellow  Angel  and 
the  prejudiced  tourist  were  unable  to  respond 
to  delightful  opportunities.  Sue  Chang's  scru 
ples  had  developed  in  twelve  months,  whereas 
the  man  from  an  eastern  sea  coast  had  nur 
tured  disapproval  of  heathen  orgies  through 
generations  of  Puritanical  ancestors.  He  now 
deplored  wild  conditions  of  a  Christian  land, 
and  sought  baked  beans  amid  strawberries 
ripened  in  open  beds  in  midwinter.  The  old 
Quarter  seemed  hopeless  and  to  an  unimagina 
tive  mind  the  "New  England  Almanack"  was 
artfully  profaned. 

January  in  Los  Angeles,  "City  of  Angels," 
had  become  a  blooming  paradox ;  a  mix-up  of 
Christmas  calendars  and  the  Fourth  of  July. 


18         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Everything  in  the  country  was  bewildering. 
Meantime  heathen  excitement  continued  to 
wax  hot  with  good-natured  disregard  for  all 
things  serious  pervading  the  balmy  air.  Un 
holy  jargon  and  sensuous  odors  welled  from 
the  walls  of  Chinatown.  In  every  direction 
golden  angels  in  shining  raiment  paid  visits 
with  smiles  and  cherry-red  New  Year's  cards. 
Flowing  sleeves  of  lavender  and  green  and 
rose  caught  the  breeze  with  holiday  swing, 
suggesting  full  possibilities  of  aviation,  as 
happy  aliens  flew  by  on  new  bicycles.  For 
even  zealous  " Mission  boys"  had  generally  de 
serted  their  American  households.  Through 
out  the  city  fair  women  flushed  above  the 
range  or  frowned  upon  a  cold  repast. 

The  Yellow  Angel  alone  stuck  to  his  kitchen 
telephone  and  a  seven-o'clock  dinner.  Until 
the  last  moment  the  mistress  of  Temple  Hill 
contemplated  their  cook's  departure;  when  he 
did  not  go,  she  smiled  triumphant.  "He  shall 
be  numbered  with  the  Golden  Cherubim,"  the 
master  irreverently  proclaimed,  but  failed  to 
discover  that  a  sacrificial  role,  even  in  humble 
life,  is  not  satisfying. 


"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL'       19 

Sue  Chang  went  on  with  his  work,  miserably 
conscious  of  heartbreaking  righteousness  and 
tame  reward.  "I  no  understand !  I  no  under 
stand!"  he  murmured  again  and  again. 

During  twelve  long  months  the  Yellow 
Angel  had  professed  sober,  confusing  doc 
trines  of  Christianity.  A  brave  renunciation 
of  present  gay  opportunities  had  exalted  him 
in  the  eyes  of  his  auburn-haired  Mission-school 
teacher  and  endeared  him  afresh  to  the  hearts 
of  his  employers ;  yet  for  unanswerable  reasons 
the  Celestial  did  not  feel  compensated  for  the 
loss  of  joyous  opportunities  still  within  his 
reach.  Frequent  trains,  steaming  down  the 
valley,  puffed  a  tune  for  Chinatown.  Every 
tree  stirring  on  the  Hill  wafted  an  invitation 
to  the  city,  while  at  last  the  old  Quarter  seemed 
to  laugh  at  the  poor  Yellow  Angel's  sacrifice. 
It  was  then  that  he  again  remembered  his  rash 
promise  to  the  teacher  at  the  Mission.  For 
the  auburn-haired  instructress  had  unfolded 
many  strange  things,  alas !  to  become  less  plain 
under  pressure  of  unexpected  disappointment, 
and  to-day  he  was  not  valiant. 

"I  no  understand!    I  just  heap  stupid,"  he 


20        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

cried  out;  and  the  sound  of  his  own  voice 
brought  stolid  comfort. 

A  red  kite  soared  above  his  head,  and  down 
in  the  street  he  heard  once  more  the  crackle 
of  powder.  A  belated  Chinaman  tore  down 
the  road  on  a  wheel. 

"  I  be  Clistian !  I  be  Clistian ! "  Sue  Chang 
choked.  "I  not  go  Chinatown — see  my  flens 
— jus*  go  Mission — have  Holy  Supper."  His 
eyes  lifted  to  the  fluttering  kite.  Then  sud 
denly  the  will  to  put  Satan's  gay  bird  behind 
him  drove  him  half-crazed  to  the  screened 
porch  of  the  kitchen.  He  seized  a  basket  of 
vegetables  and  began  to  shell  peas.  Deter 
mination  marked  his  brow.  His  chin  sank  to 
his  breast;  for  a  moment  his  young  counte 
nance  was  set  and  dull.  Roses  smiled  upon 
him,  but  he  did  not  notice  their  pretty  pink  and 
white  faces.  He  knit  his  golden  forehead  into 
sad,  perplexed  lines  and  rained  fresh  green 
bullets  against  an  answering  pan.  The  trag 
edy  of  the  previous  night  broke  over  him  and 
his  earlier  satisfaction  in  the  communion  serv 
ice,  so  judiciously  administered  at  the  Mission, 
now  seemed  doubtful. 


"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL'       21 

The  house  was  still;  for  the  mistress,  the 
children,  the  governess  and  the  nurse-maid 
had  all  departed  for  a  drive.  The  Yellow 
Angel  was  alone  and  no  one  would  hear. 

"I  be  Clistian  one  long  year,"  he  began, 
"not  heap  happy!  I  not  go  Chinatown  see 
flens — hear  'bout  my  cluntry.  My  cluntry 
good  land,  people  jus'  stupid.  Big  mountains 
— all  same  California.  My  people  kind — jus' 
say  fool  plare  to  idol — be  heap  poor.  My 
f adder — my  mudder — not  velly  bad?"  The 
inflection  of  his  voice  answered  the  questions 
and  Pigeon  English  burst  into  inspired  alle 
gory. 

"  I  be  heap  stupid — claus  I  not  understand ! ' ' 
he  desperately  deplored.  "Now  I  good — I  not 
have  flun!  My  flens  down  Chinatown  have 
flun — I  stay  be  Clistian.  I  no  shoot  fireclacker 
— fly  kite — play  fan-tan — smoke  opium — do  no 
bad  thing — jus'  go  Mission.  Las'  night 
teacher  tell  boys  Holy  supper  more  better  Ian 
China  New  Year.  Boys  sing — say  plare — all 
give  money  build  church — tell  teacher  good 
night.  That  not  make  velly  happy.  Len 
boys  go  Los  Angeles.  I  not  go.  Teacher 


22         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

say  I  good  Clistian.  Plitty  soon  I  see  locket 
in  sky,  I  no  likey  look — my  heart  so  solly. 
I  no  likey  go  in  my  house — see  all  my 
flens  go  Chinatown ! 

"Lem  Gee  he  "say,  'Come  Chinatown — have 
flun. '  I  say  I  not  go — I  Clistian.  Too  much 
expense — I  pay  money,  build  church.  Lem 
Gee  say,  'Heap  fool/  I  say — I  not  fool — I 
likey  be  good — have  sins  forgive.  Lem  Gee 
say,  'Go,  take  lun!'  He  say — he  not  go  Mis 
sion  one  week — he  go  Chinatown — have  heap 
flun — fly  klite — shoot  fireclacker — play  fan- 
tan.  Lem  Gee  not  work  kitchen  one  week; 
one  day  he  come  home — cook — go  Mission — 
be  heap  solly — have  sins  forgive  all  samy.  I 
no  sabe !  I  no  sabe ! ' ' 

Peas  fell  into  the  pan  with  angry  thud,  while 
shooting  crackers  exploded  down  the  street. 
Sue  Chang  groaned.  He  had  reached  the  de 
nouement  of  his  allegory.  The  penalty  of 
Christian  warfare  was  heavy  and  a  tear  swept 
his  golden  cheek.  He  thrust  it  away  and  went 
on  conclusively. 

"Lem  Gee  go  Chinatown — I  go  my  house. 
I  go  dark  street — I  say  plare — cause  I  flaid. 


"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL'       23 

Plitty  soon  big  dog  come  bite  my  leg — bad  man 
hit  my  head.  I  fall  down — no  sense.  Bad 
man  steal  my  money.  I  go  my  house.  I  heap 
sick.  I  cly — say  nudder  plare.  Not  much 
flun!  I  hear  fireclacker  down  Chinatown.  I 
see  locket  in  skly.  I  stay  my  bed.  This  morn 
ing  I  work  hard — cook — sclub.  My  kitchen 
all  clean  'fore  Lem  Gee  come  see  me.  Lem 
Gee  have  new  blicycle.  He  so  happy — fly  all 
same  bird.  He  say  I  big  fool,  not  go  China 
town  last  night.  He  say — see! — show  heap 
pile  gold.  He  say  he  play  fan-tan;  no  cop 
catchy  on — just  good  luck.  Lem  Gee  buy  new 
blicycle — Lhave  plesent  for  teacher — heap  more 
money.  Plitty  soon  he  velly  solly,  he  say. 
Not  velly  solly  yet — not  till  one  week.  One 
week — he  go  Mission — get  one  blite  bled,  one 
dlink  wine,  be  forgive  sins.  I  no  understand ! 
I  just  a  heap  sick  in  my  heart." 

Above,  a  meadow-lark  gave  the  call  for  the 
New  Year.  Pink  and  red  roses  nodded  in  the 
breeze,  still  pointing  down  to  Chinatown. 
Festive  echoes  of  Celestial  merry-making  tore 
Sue  Chang's  heart;  but  again  he  tossed  green 
peas  from  sweet-smelling  pods.  Again  he 


24         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

bowed  Ms  head  in  dull  submission  to  an  unjust 
fate.  Rewards  of  the  Christian  soldier  were 
not  satisfying,  and  in  vain  he  tried  to  sing 
his  favorite  hymn.  There  was  no  song  in  his 
heart ;  and  the  blonde  image  of  his  adored  Mis 
sion  teacher  refused  to  materialize.  Vague, 
horrible  skepticism  entered  his  soul.  Hence 
forth  theological  problems  would  torture  him ; 
for  even  now  he  respected  the  discernment  of 
Lena  Gee,  while  the  more  wiley  heathen's  opu 
lent  state  and  delectable  outing  seemed  to 
frost  all  budding  faith.  The  "Yellow  Angel" 
deplored  his  own  virtuous,  but  withal  disas 
trous,  stand.  Sudden,  irresistible  longing 
seized  him.  Friends  and  countrymen  called 
loudly — above  the  voice  of  the  auburn-haired 
siren. 

* '  I  sick  in  my  heart ! "  he  cried.  "  I  no  likey 
be  good  all  time — too  hard !  I  go  Chinatown 
jus'  one  hour.  I  get  dinner — len  I  go  theater 
— see  big  play — hear  music — have  little  flun! 
I  talk  'bout  my  cluntry — 'bout  my  f  adder — my 
mudder — buy  fine  plesent  for  teacher  all  same 
Lena  Gee." 

Late  into  night  sounded  the  gongs  of  wild 


"THE  YELLOW  ANGEL'       25 

Celestials,  and  long  after  tourists  had  left  the 
quarter,  pandemonium  prevailed.  Then — 
hush  of  opium  deadened  noise  in  the  streets. 
When  red  lanterns  paled  with  early  glow  of 
morning,  the  boy  Sue  Chang  stumbled  forth 
to  trudge  his  weary  way  to  Temple  Hill;  to 
stir  in  deep  humility  cold,  dead  ashes  of  an  ac 
cusing  range. 


CHAPTER  II 

YEAES  AFTER 

THE  Yellow  Angel's  kitchen  was  immacu 
late;  in  fact  too  clean  for  the  course  of 
ordinary  events.  Rows  of  utensils  hung 
coldly  bright  above  the  sink;  a  dead  range 
shone  with  melancholy  luster  of  fresh  mourn 
ing  ;  and  even  the  little  clock  ticked  a  premoni 
tory  knell  from  the  side  wall. 

Sue  Chang,  in  an  oilcloth  traveling  costume, 
his  queue  uncoiled,  his  dark  face  a  study  of 
conflicting  emotions,  bade  farewell  to  Temple 
Hill.  For  the  first  time  during  ten  years  of 
service  the  faithful  cook  claimed  a  vacation  of 
a  year,  and  faced  again  for  the  Fatherland. 

Chang's  visit  to  old  China  was  attended  with 
certain  trepidation — the  gradual  result  of  a 
long  sojourn  in  the  United  States.  He 
dreaded  the  ocean  voyage,  taken  in  the  deep 

26 


YEARS  AFTER  27 

bowels  of  the  ship,  and  by  degrees  had  lost 
faith  in  traditions  of  his  native  land. 

The  United  States  had  insidiously  usurped 
the  power  of  rotting  ancestors;  while  Cali 
fornia  was  now  the  heathen's  advanced  ideal 
of  civilization.  On  Temple  Hill,  his  American 
home,  every  tree  and  shrub  on  the  six-acre 
knoll  seemed  dear  to  him.  Here  he  had  seen 
roses  and  children  blooming  together,  side  by 
side,  until  dreams  of  far-away  China,  of  ag 
ing  parents,  and  a  lily-footed  "bride  to  be"  be 
came  strangely  mixed  with  local  interests  and 
modern  beliefs.  Chang  had  become  an  im 
portant  factor  in  the  daily  life  and  domestic 
economy  of  "Temple  Hill." 

The  mistress  faced  an  oft-postponed  ca 
lamity;  for  Chang  was  going  "back  home"  to 
be  gone  a  whole  year.  With  strange  unrest 
she  computed  the  price  of  her  faithful  cook's 
departure.  The  present  moment  seemed  like 
a  gloomy  "foreword"  to  a  still  more  gloomy 
story.  Celestial  data  called  up  vivid  memories 
of  past  tribulations,  as  she  again  endeavored 
to  solve  a  half-forgotten  problem.  Twice  be 
fore  she  had  sought  out  the  rule  for  the  in- 


28        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

volved  question,  "How  many  days  in  a  month 
when  the  cook  goes  on  a  vacation?"  Already 
she  jumped  at  her  answer,  and  it  was  twice  the 
number  allotted  in  the  calendar. 

On  a  fresh,  sunshiny  morning,  when  she 
should  have  been  in  the  rose  garden,  listening 
to  love  songs  of  mocking-birds  hidden  among 
vines  of  the  veranda,  she  was  otherwise  en 
gaged,  with  thoughts  that  were  irritable  and 
grim.  What  should  she  do  without  her  faith 
ful  heathen?  Where  could  his  match  be 
found?  Was  not  his  bread  as  digestible  as 
heavenly  manna  ?  his  soup  as  nutritious  as  the 
avowed  promises  of  gold-label  advertisements  ? 
When  he  beat  the  dust  from  a  treasured 
prayer-rug,  he  harmed  not  a  sacred  thread! 
Controlled  by  his  steady  hands,  usual  cut- 
glass  disasters  were  averted;  within  his  judi 
cious  grasp  Coalport  china  took  no  sudden 
leaps  into  the  air.  He  was  a  wonder,  this 
quiet,  masterful  Chang.  Even  the  hens  of  the 
chicken-yard  respected  him;  for  each  did  her 
duty  and  laid  an  egg  a  day — Sunday  not  ex 
empt.  The  doves  revered  him  likewise, 
mourning  with  exaggerated  pathos  when  he  de- 


N  the  hens  of  the  chicken-yard 

respected  him. 


YEARS  AFTER  29 

serted  them.  Always  when  he  called  they 
came,  dashing  through  the  blue  to  the  very 
verge  of  his  kitchen  door.  When  he  fed  them, 
they  returned  to  their  cotes  joyfully,  circling 
as  they  went,  flashing  wings  against  a  sunlit 
air  like  darting  prisms.  Standing  among  the 
pigeons  in  spotless  white  work-clothes,  his 
queue  coiled  neatly  above  his  intelligent  golden 
brow,  Chang  made  a  picture. 

As  the  children  of  Temple  Hill  grew  up, 
they  went  away  to  school  and  college;  then 
Chang  was  "heap  sorry."  When  they  came 
home,  he  felt  "heap  glad."  When  a  daughter 
of  the  house  was  married,  he  rejoiced.  One 
day  a  little  grandson  arrived,  and  Celestial 
joy  knew  no  bounds.  "Heap  lovely  little 
man!"  he  cried.  "I  take  picture  with  him — 
send  back  China — let  my  folks  see  all  same 
'Merican  baby." 

He  was  charmed  with  the  result  of  the  snap 
shot  and  posed  again  with  his  "New  Depart 
ure"  bicycle.  "I  tell  my  fiends  back  China, 
my  wheel  fly  all  same  bird,"  he  declared  with 
smiles.  "My  people  not  smart  like  these 
United  States, ' '  he  went  on.  * '  More  better  old 


30        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Empress  die — I  think  that  old  lady  keep  China 
heap  dark ;  some  day  my  people  get  more  light 
all  same  'Merica." 

A  wistful  shade  clouded  his  brow. 

"Since  I  live  this  Temple  Hill  I  understand 
many  things,"  he  acknowledged  with  com 
mendable  pride.  "Now  I  not  believe  those 
idols — now  I  say  idols  no  good."  The  mis 
tress  bowed  approval,  and  Chang  proceeded 
to  establish  Christian  premises.  "  Idols  can 
not  make  happy — idols  cannot  make  rich — 
idols  cannot  make  good — idols  just  like  old 
brickbat — no  hear — no  see — no  feel.  When  I 
go  back  home,  I  tell  my  family  these  United 
States  great  cluntry — idols  no  good — I  know 
sure — now  I  live  so  long  this  Temple  Hill. ' ' 

And  shortly  after  Chang's  heroic  threat  to 
enlighten  his  benighted  countrymen,  he  had 
received  a  command  from  aging  parents  to 
return  to  China  on  a  most  important  mission. 
Both  bade  him  fulfill  his  long-standing  pledge 
to  the  child  wife  of  years  back ;  to  hasten  with 
out  delay  to  the  Flowery  Kingdom  and  restore 
a  wilting  blossom.  The  girl  had  matured  and, 
with  others  of  her  class,  awaited  the  arrival  of 


YEARS  AFTER  31 

alien  sons  who  had  gone  to  the  United  States 
after  money. 

At  first  Chang  seemed  reluctant  to  obey  the 
summons;  but  tenets  of  a  yet  vague  theology 
had  not  displaced  traditions  of  ages,  and 
gradually  the  lukewarm  bridegroom  flamed  to 
the  idea  of  nuptials  prescribed  by  unrelenting 
ancestors.  Chang's  preparations  for  his 
wedding  soon  became  elaborate.  He  bought 
gifts  for  his  future  wife,  and  most  character 
istic  of  all  that  he  selected  were  buttons 
fashioned  from  United  States  two-dollar-and- 
a-half  gold  pieces.  These  he  purchased  from 
the  bank  to  enrich  the  wedding  garments  of  a 
lily-footed  bride.  Each  treasure  was  shown  in 
turn  to  the  sympathetic  mistress  of  the  Hill. 
Chang  was  a  proud  suitor,  but  occasionally  he 
had  doubts. 

1  'I  like  plitty  much  have  my  wife  stay  these 
United  States,  but  no  can,"  he  one  day  de 
plored.  "Not  much  fun  have  wife  far,  away 
— ten  thousand  miles — I  sorry,  but  no  can  help 
— my  f  adder  say  I  come  back  China — get  mally 
more  better  back  there.  China  son  no  can  do 
like  'Merican  boy — China  boy  no  dare  tell  his 


32         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

f adder  'mind  you  business' — China  son  must 
do  all  same  his  f  adder  tell  him." 

The  case  was  plain ;  and,  the  evening  before 
Chang's  departure  for  San  Francisco,  the  boys 
of  the  Mission  school  gave  him  a  little  supper. 
"I  have  heap  lovely  party  last  night,"  he  said 
next  morning.  "My  fiends  bring  plesents — 
lice  cleam  —  cake  —  nuts  —  laisons  —  I  make 
speech!  Teacher  say  long,  lovely  plare — 
clause  I  not  get  sick  that  old  ship — not  get  eat 
up  by  big  whale — get  safe  back  China — then 
come  back  these  United  States.  Boys  sing 
*  Onward,  Clistian  Soldier' — shake  hands — 
say  good  luck  till  I  be  home  Temple  Hill — my 
own  kitchen." 

At  this  time  there  seemed  to  be  no  doubt  in 
regard  to  the  legality  of  Chang's  return 
papers.  The  United  States  had  not  then 
crossed  tho  Rubicon.  A  chimerical  interest  in 
a  store  of  Los  Angeles'  Chinatown  gave  him 
the  privilege  to  return  to  the  Republic  at  the 
end  of  a  year. 

The  mistress  knew  that  after  twelve 
months  Chang  would  come  back  and  take  up 
his  work  without  complaint  or  outward  emo- 


"PJEAP  lovely  little  man!     I  take 
picture  with  /«'/?/." 


YEARS  AFTER  33 

tion.  Some  fine  morning  he  would  suddenly 
appear  and  domestic  burdens  would  roll  away. 
She  might  lift  her  eyes  and  behold  the  faithful 
one  upon  the  rose  walk;  his  oilcloth  traveling 
suit  worse  for  wear,  the  gray  Fedora  hat  a 
trifle  soiled — otherwise  the  smiling  bridegroom 
would  be  in  excellent  condition.  She  saw  his 
cheeks  round,  his  eyes  bright,  his  whole  coun 
tenance  frank  with  joy.  An  hour  later  would 
again  establish  him  in  the  United  States.  He 
could  once  more  wear  his  spotless  white  gar 
ments  ;  coil  his  queue  for  labor.  In  imagina 
tion  the  mistress  heard  him  calling  to  the 
pigeons  and  half  forgot  that  the  faithful  one 
must  go  from  home.  Then  came  the  realiza 
tion  of  a  long,  hard  year  not  yet  begun.  That 
same  night  she  had  a  dream.  After  wakeful 
hours  filled  with  plans  for  a  now  demoralized 
household  she  saw  a  wide  and  pleasant  meadow, 
leading  sweetly  forward,  wild  green  barley 
spears  gleamed  through  warm  brown  mold, 
while  millions  of  golden  poppies  blazed  in  sun 
light.  The  vision  was  quieting,  and  next 
morning  the  master  of  the  Hill  interpreted  it 
with  a  chuckle. 


34         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"The  meadow,"  said  he,  "means  years  of 
peace  and  comfort;  the  barley-spears  elim 
inate  the  sad  contingency  of  sour  bread,  and 
golden  poppies  typify  Celestial  thrift  when  at 
last  the  Yellow  Angel  comes  back.  '  Blest  be 
the  shade  of  Confucius!'  Blest  be  his  shade, 
for  our  precious  Heathen  will  be  sure  to  re 
turn  to  his  American  home  dead  broke!" 

And  the  prophecy  proved  true.  The  year 
rolled  round,  and  one  day  Chang's  familiar 
face  appeared  at  the  door,  and  soon  the  house 
hold  was  depending  on  him  as  formerly. 

Five  tranquil  years  now  went  by  before 
Chang's  brow  began  again  to  gather  lines  of 
anxiety.  Then  for  the  first  time  in  the  memory 
of  the  mistress  he  grew  slightly  irritable ;  later 
she  surmised  that  her  hour  had  come — Chang 
was  again  going  to  China.  When  she  re 
covered  from  her  shock  sufficiently  to  inquire 
the  cause  of  her  cook's  sudden  determination, 
Chang  explained  graphically  that  Chinese  cir 
cles  were  greatly  excited  over  the  unjust 
stringency  of  the  Exclusion  Act.  The  old 
"Geary  Law"  was  masquerading  in  a  strait- 
jacket,  and  it  was  the  belief  of  Celestial  sages 


YEARS  AFTER  35 

that  working  boys  could  have  but  one  more 
chance  for  a  peaceful  trip  to  the  Fatherland : 
the  assurance  that  return  papers  would  not  be 
honored  by  United  States  officials  after  the  en 
suing  year  had  created  a  panic  in  both  San 
Francisco  and  Los  Angeles'  Chinatowns. 

One  morning  Chang  stood  with  a  troubled 
brow.  "I  sorry — but  I  feel  heap  big  debil 
inside  my  heart,"  he  confessed.  "I  go  back 
China  once  more — come  these  United  States 
once  more — len  I  must  not  come  this  'Merica." 

"Not  so  bad  as  that,"  the  lady  contradicted. 

"Yes,  I  go — United  States  not  care — I  do 
no  harm!  No  matter."  He  spread  his  hands 
in  tragical  despair.  "I  not  go  now — I  not  get 
back  these  United  States  any  more — my 
papers  no  good  after  one  year — when  I  come 
this  cluntry  one  more  time  I  stay  five  year — 
then  I  go  back  see  my  wife  all  time — be  all 
same  my  people."  Sad  lines  formed  in  his 
forehead.  "I  sorry  United  States  do  that 
way.  My  cluntry  pretty  good,"  he  went  on; 
"big  mountains — all  same  California — people 
just  poor — too  dark — not  heap  smart.  Wing 
Lee — he  go  China,  too."  Wing  Lee  was  our 


36 

laundryman,  and,  like  our  cook,  had  served  us 
for  years. 

"Yes,  he  go  too,"  Chang  continued.  "He 
sell  out  business — go  back  home — pay  all  his 
money — so  wife  and  children  not  be  slaves  any 
more. ' '  The  mistress  raised  her  hands  in  hor 
ror.  "Wing  Lee 's  wife  and  children  slaves ! ' ' 
"Yes,  they  all  slaves  back  China.  I  not  know 
Wing  Lee  back  home,"  Chang  coolly  an 
nounced.  "We  go  same  ship  till  I  get  China ; 
when  I  get  my  cluntry,  I  say  good-by — not 
speak  to  Wing  Lee  any  more."  "Indeed!" 
said  the  mistress.  After  all,  thought  she, 
snobbery  is  but  the  grandchild  of  caste. 

Chang's  candid  scorn  for  the  washman  who 
was  returning  to  China  upon  a  godlike  mission 
filled  her  with  fresh  interest.  * '  And  will  Wing 
Lee  be  able  to  return  to  America?"  she  asked. 

"He  not  know — maybe  he  sneak  in  all  same 
Mexico.  He  know  one  fellow  do  that  way. 
Wing  Lee  tell  me — he  try  get  back,  too.  When 
wife  and  children  be  free — he  say  he  be  dead 
bloke — len  he  try  get  back  these  United  States 
— make  little  money.  He  not  know  sure." 

The    mistress    prayed    devoutly    that    the 


YEARS  AFTER  37 

"Mexican  sneak"  might  prove  successful. 
"And  you  feel  that  you  must  return  to  China 
at  once  ?"  she  asked,  with  a  lingering  hope  that 
Chang  could  be  induced  to  change  his  mind. 
"Yes,  I  go,"  he  declared  emphatically;  and 
two  weeks  later  he  departed. 

The  ensuing  year  was  a  long  one  for  the 
Temple  Hill  household.  Many  of  the  best 
Chinese  servants  of  the  Southwest  had  dis 
creetly  followed  the  judgment  of  Chang. 
There  seemed  to  be  hardly  a  reliable  cook  left 
in  the  country.  A  hegira  had  taken  place  in 
Los  Angeles'  Chinatown,  and  even  Yap  Sing, 
the  Grand  Mogul  of  Celestial  employment 
agencies,  owned  that  the  stock  of  cooks  was 
poor  and  unreliable.  "Pretty  soon  boys  all 
come  back,"  he  encouraged  from  tune  to  time, 
and  at  last  the  promise  was  fulfilled. 

After  months  of  inconvenience  and  waiting, 
when  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  had  almost  given 
up  the  idea  of  Chang's  return,  she  saw  him 
once  more  trudging  into  the  grounds  with  his 
big  shining  valise  and  a  suggestive  bundle  of 
ship  blankets.  Her  heart  fluttered  somewhat 
wildly,  but  she  stood  still  with  smiling  dignity 


38         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

and  awaited  the  inevitable  moment.  Triumph 
lit  her  eyes,  for  only  that  very  morning  she 
had  disputed  the  pessimistic  opinion  of  her 
husband,  declaring  stoutly  that  Chang  the 
faithful  would  surely  come. 

Now,  spreading  beyond  the  approaching 
vision  of  returning  peace  and  comfort,  the 
great  mountains  seemed  to  applaud  her  faith. 
She  lifted  her  eyes  unto  the  hills  and  returned 
thanks  for  blessings  past  and  close  at  hand. 
Spring  air  of  the  Southwest  land  touched  her 
cheeks;  every  rose  in  the  garden  seemed  to 
congratulate  her.  Then,  with  an  exultant 
whir  through  the  sun-kissed  sky,  came  the 
doves.  A  pure  white  leader  steered  the  flash 
ing  flock  and  as  Chang  put  down  his  valise  and 
bundle  to  gaze  upward  the  pigeons  appeared  to 
know  that  their  friend  had  come.  Into  the 
blue  they  dove  joyous  wings,  circling  after  daz 
zling  mates  this  way  and  that  way,  until  at 
last  they  found  the  little  plaza  before  the 
kitchen  door.  Here  Chang  fed  them  after  his 
eventful  journey  of  ten  thousand  miles. 

In  her  secret  soul  the  mistress  vowed  ruin  to 
an  unjust  Exclusion  Act.  A  restriction  act 


"/    TELL    my  fiends   back    China,   my 
wheel  fly  all  same  bird," 


YEARS  AFTER  39 

were  well  enough,  but  justice  should  control  its 
articles.  Of  what  particular  benefit  were  for 
eign  missions  if  the  United  States  did  not 
treat  fairly  the  very  heathen  it  sought  to 
Christianize? 

When  the  faithful,  plodding,  clear-sighted 
Chinese  laborers  had  all  been  driven  from 
the  Pacific  coast,  what  would  become  of  the 
" Happy  Valleys"  of  a  goodly  land  not  yet 
half  developed?  Would  not  decline  tarnish 
the  golden  promises  of  earlier  years?  What 
would  be  the  ultimate  story  of  the  far- 
stretching,  burning  mesa — thirsting  for  un 
developed  water;  of  wide  utilitarian  acres 
below  the  "Mother  Mountains";  of  tender 
pockets  of  fertile  mold  hidden  between  pleas 
ant  hills?  She  asked  herself  the  questions 
with  perturbation. 

After  a  long  sojourn  in  her  adopted  land, 
she  did  not  believe  it  possible  to  develop  the 
Pacific  slope  without  the  aid  of  Chinese 
laborers.  The  Japanese  could  never  displace 
their  Celestial  cousins,  in  the  calm  estimation 
of  the  mistress  of  Temple  Hill.  She  had 
watched  both  alien  races  with  extreme  interest, 


40        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

and  she  had  seen  always  that  in  complicated 
matters,  in  tasks  demanding  strength  and  en 
durance,  in  loyalty,  in  truthfulness,  in  honesty 
and  general  adaptability,  the  intelligent  China 
man  can  distance  a  Japanese  of  his  own  class. 
As  yet  no  Celestial  had  dreamed  of  a  Republic 
for  his  native  land. 

Still  wondering  in  regard  to  the  possible  out- 
1  come  of  a  grave  and  undecided  issue,  the  lady 
walked  to  the  rear  of  the  house.  There,  on  the 
kitchen  porch,  she  found  her  model  heathen 
shelling  peas.  Gold  of  Ophir  roses  peeped  at 
him  from  behind  the  lattice,  while  a  derelict 
hen  from  the  chicken-yard  cackled  her  com 
plaints  at  his  feet.  The  picture  was  a  com 
forting  one,  and  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  dis 
missed  for  the  day  all  moody  speculations. 
Peas  fell  into  the  pan  like  pleasant  rain.  Sud 
denly  Chang  lifted  his  eyes;  his  countenance 
shone  with  pride  and  satisfaction. 

"I  not  tell  you  I  get  little  son  back  China? 
Yes,  he  come  all  light — six  hours  before  I  start 
back  these  United  States."  He  waited  ex 
pectantly  for  congratulation  sure  to  follow, 


YEARS  AFTER  41 

then  went  on:  "I  not  likey  to  leave  my  little 
son  that  soon — but  no  can  help — I  heap  scare 
anyway  'clause  I  stay  home  so  long — I  flaid  my 
papers  no  good — I  heap  scare  I  not  get  back 
United  States  all  light.  My  old  ship  sail  next 
day  my  little  boy  be  born.  I  heap  sick  in  my 
heart — but  no  can  stay — hear  my  little  son 
make  big  cly." 

The  mistress  sympathized  as  best  she 
could,  and  Chang  continued.  "You  not  likey 
you  husbland  go  away  six  hours  after  you  li ttle 
son  get  born?" 

"No,  indeed,"  she  answered. 

"I  not  think  these  United  States  velly  kind 
to  poor  Chinaman.  Sixteen  year  I  work  this 
cluntry — do  no  harm — when  my  little  son  be 
born  I  can  no  stay  home  one  day — fear  my 
papers  no  good.  That  hard — I  say.  I  think 
Chinaman  not  do  United  States  any  harm? — 
some  Chinaman  good — some  bad — all  same 
'Merican  man.  Bad  Chinaman  smoke  opium 
— do  mean  thing ;  but  bad  Chinaman  not  harm 
United  States — just  harm  hisself . ' ' 

Chang's  command  of  English  was  not  fluent ; 


42         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

but  his  epigrammatic  philosophy  charmed. 
The  intelligent  heathen  understood  more  than 
he  could  express. 

"I  heap  solly  'bout  my  poor  cluntry.  She 
have  hard  luck  all  time.  That  big  Boxer  war ! 
Now  pletty  soon  that  big  Russia  want  Man 
churia — say  China  old  fool.  Some  day  I  think 
China  not  have  much  land  left.  One  year  lose 
some — fight — pay  big  money — lose  more  land. 
After  'while  nations  take  all — China  be  dead 
bloke — not  any  good.  I  see  things  myself. 
Back  home  my  people  heap  scare — say  all 
cluntries  fight  China — plitty  soon  China  have 
no  more  land — just  old  temples — old  idols.  I 
wish  China  all  same  Republic!" 

He  dropped  his  eyes,  and  the  brown  hands 
renewed  their  scuffle  with  green  pods.  For  a 
moment  falling  peas  appeared  to  sound  a  dirge 
to  gloomy  convictions;  then  Chang  lifted  a 
smiling  face. 

"I  no  can  help  these  things,"  he  declared, 
with  the  good  nature  of  a  true  philosopher. 
"Now  I  stay  this  cluntry  five  year — then,  I 
see,  maybe,  Plesident  these  United  States  do 
something — make  new  law — so  good  China- 


YEARS  AFTER  43 

man  can  stay  this  cluntry — go  home — come 
back.  I  think  that  like  Jesus.  Jesus  be  solly^ 
I  think,  when  poor  Chinaman  have  bad  luck.'* 

The  crude  philosopher  of  the  pea-pods  had 
closed  the  question,  and  with  strange  humility 
the  lady  walked  away. 

Months  later,  when  Russia  and  Japan  began 
to  fight  for  golden  apples,  she  recalled  Chang's 
prophecy.  Often  at  breakfast  she  felt  a  fur 
tive  glance  behind  her  chair,  and  knew  that 
her  Celestial  sought  for  headlines  of  war  in 
the  morning  paper. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  UNDERSTUDY 

DURING  the  Yellow  Angel's  second  visit 
to  China,  Temple  Hill  appeared  to  be 
threatened  with  devastation.  All  at  once  the 
family  cow  went  dry,  then  died,  regardless  of 
the  little  grandson  who  had  arrived  from  the 
East  to  spend  the  summer.  The  old  gray- 
hound,  so  long  befriended  by  Sue  Chang, 
choked  on  a  bone  and  gave  up  the  ghost. 
Doves  flew  boldly  away  to  find  strange  mates, 
while  broods  of  downy  chicks  hatched  out  and 
soon  expired.  Even  the  mistress  of  the  Hill 
grew  thin  and  alarmed  over  the  Yellow  Angel's 
uncertain  return.  For  the  Exclusion  Law 
again  flourished.  Celestials  met  trouble  and 
insult  the  moment  they  entered  the  Golden 
Gate,  despite  credentials  and  worthy  records. 
Meanwhile  cooks  came  and  went  with  every 
moon.  The  situation  was  tragic. 

44 


THE  UNDERSTUDY  45 

The  poor  mistress  had  given  up  to  despair, 
when  at  last  she  secured  a  Jap  of  promising 
pretension.  The  freshness  of  his  white  ap 
parel,  the  style  of  his  bearing  and  withal  his 
deferential  manner,  filled  her  with  joy.  He 
seemed  to  be  a  jewel  beyond  careless  appraise 
ment.  Still  she  was  cold  and  annoyed  when 
the  master  ranked  his  possibilities  with  those 
of  the  absent  Yellow  Angel.  "Wait,"  she 
commanded.  But  he  persisted  that  she  was 
unreasonable  in  her  cool  estimate  of  the  new 
cook 's  first  dinner. 

"Holy  guns!  could  there  be  anything  more 
perfect?  His  etceteras  are  wonderful;  his 
bow  is  a  dream.  There  is  nothing  lacking  but 
the  Fujiyama,  yet  to  be  painted  upon  his  kit 
chen  wall.  Perhaps  some  local  Japanese  art 
ist  would  accommodate  us ;  surely  our  treasure 
is  worthy  of  any  attainable  background." 

The  wife  raised  her  eyelids  in  cool  derision. 

"It  is  just  possible  that  he  might  prefer  silk, 
hand-painted  Wistaria  curtains  at  his  win 
dows  instead  of  shades.  And  the  electric  bulbs 
could  be  dropped  into  Oriental  lanterns,"  she 
suggested  witheringly. 


46        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"For  my  part,  I  am  willing  to  watch  for  de 
velopments.  Because  his  first  dinner  was  good 
is  no  sign  that  his  second  one  will  be  better. 
.Wait  a  day  or  two  before  you  order  the  Fuji 
yama  ;  even  that  unique  background  might  not 
suit  the  taste  of  the  next  one." 

" Fudge,"  said  her  husband;  "you  don't 
seem  to  understand  that  all  proverbs  have  been 
transposed  to  suit  a  progressive  age.  'All 
things  come  to  him  who  waits'  now  means,  the 
man  who  waits  gets  left.  As  soon  as  the  fame 
of  our  treasure  spreads  throughout  the  neigh 
borhood  there  will  be  trouble  in  store  for  us 
if  we  neglect  his  personal  comforts  and  dwarf 
his  impressions  of  what  a  kitchen  ought  to  be. 
Our  friends  across  the  way  with  so  much 
money  will  educate  his  taste;  while  in  their 
superb  annex  he  may  discover  sterling  dish- 
pans  and  wrought-iron  pokers  that  will  put 
our  plain  utensils  to  shame.  Be  reasonable, 
dear ;  for  once  give  me  the  benefit  of  the  doubt. 
I  have  studied  human  nature  so  thoroughly 
that  I  am  fully  convinced  about  this  particular 
matter.  Our  Jap  will  rise  to  his  environment. 
If  we  wish  to  keep  him,  we  must  'go  one  better' 


THE  UNDERSTUDY  47 

on  chaste  elegance  and  gentlemanly  perqui 
sites." 

"I  do  not  deny  in  part  what  you  say,"  said 
the  lady  gazing  gloomily  at  the  pretentious 
mansion  across  the  way.  "I  don't  deny  that 
our  treasure  may  be  hard  to  keep ;  for  really, 
there  is  no  chance  for  happiness  in  this  neigh 
borhood  any  longer.  We  ought  to  move  out  of 
it.  It  is  far  too  rich  for  us,  and  now  if  we 
have  to  decorate  the  kitchen  wall  with  the  Fu 
jiyama,  I  think  we  had  better  sell  the  place." 

"My  dear,"  said  the  husband,  "you  have  not 
been  to  service  for  two  Sundays ;  meantime  you 
have  forgotten  to  repeat  the  tenth  command 
ment.  I  see  clearly  that  you  are  not  inclined 
to  keep  this  law.  To  restore  your  naturally 
courageous  heart  to  its  old  cunning  I  would 
suggest  a  dinner  party.  Invite  a  few  friends ; 
the  bishop  who  is  a  summer  bachelor ;  George 
Horton  and  Jack  Roe.  Roe  says  he's  starved 
since  his  wife  went  East,  and  Horton 's  about 
the  same." 

"I'm  not  quite  sure,"  the  wife  deliberated. 
"Well,  I  think  I  will.  The  Bishop  is  so  ap 
preciative,  I  just  love  him.  And  the  other 


48        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

men  will  be  simply  overawed  by  our  spotless 
prize.  Really,  I  never  saw  anything  more  re 
freshing  for  hot  weather  than  a  Jap's  white- 
linen  get-up.  Just  think,  even  his  shoes  are 
white.  White  shoes,  white  pantaloons,  white 
jacket,  white  apron,  white  cap  for  the 
kitchen,"  she  enumerated.  " Looks  quite  like 
an  East  Indian  butler.  Yes,  I  think  it  will 
be  lovely  to  have  something  doing.  I  haven't 
dared  to  ask  any  one  to  dinner  since  the  Yel 
low  Angel  went  to  China.  Of  course  he  was 
perfect!  I  fear  he  may  never  get  back  to 
this  side;  and  there  are  so  few  good  Chinese 
servants  left  in  the  country  that  we  will  doubt 
less  be  compelled  to  employ  Japanese.  If  all 
Japs  are  as  capable  and  aesthetic  as  our  present 
incumbent  we  may  get  along  after  all ! " 

She  dropped  into  a  chair  with  an  attitude  of 
deep  thinking. 

"It  is  Tuesday;  Friday  would  be  the  best 
day,"  said  she.  "Tell  the  Bishop  seven 
o'clock;  it  will  surely  be  cool  by  that  time; 
very  informal,  of  course." 

" Yes,  very  informal,"  her  husband  intoned ; 
"very  informal,  with  all  the  best  dishes." 

"The  swellest  little  dinner  of  the  summer; 


THE  UNDERSTUDY  49 

cool  and  restful  in  every  detail/'  she  ex 
plained. 

The  master  blinked  responsively.  "Of 
course  it'll  be  great,  all  your  things  are.  But 
I  can't  quite  see  why  our  dinner  last  night 
was  not  good  enough  for  any  man.  Take  that 
tomato  salad,  for  instance.  Great  Scott!  It 
was  like  a  Japanese  painting.  The  pudding 
was  as  mysterious  as  a  poem,  and  I  never  wish 
to  drink  better  black  coffee.  I  don't  see  why 
you  women  want  to  fuss  about  having  a  few 
friends. ' ' 

"But  you  see,"  she  beamed,  "not  everyone 
can  secure  a  cook  who  is  able  to  help  the  table 
maid;  to  emulate  a  butler.  As  you  said  a 
moment  ago,  we  are  in  duty  bound  to  give  him 
opportunities  for  uplifting  environment.  If 
we  don't  put  on  style  for  company  he'll  think 
we  have  no  position  in  the  neighborhood.  A 
man  understands  so  little;  never  the  real 
reason  of  success  in  entertaining.  The  one 
time  you  always  take  trouble  to  notice  is  when 
something  is  horribly  bad." 

"When  all  is  perfect,  what  can  a  poor  soul 
say1?" 

"Nothing,  of  course;  but  you  might  look 


50        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

volumes  of  praise,  just  as  you  look  volumes  of 
wrath  when  things  don't  suit/'  she  held  out. 

"Well,"  said  her  husband,  "I  will  look  six 
cantos  of  ecstasy  when  the  Bishop  eats  his 
salad." 

Her  eyes  smiled.  "You  needn't  overdo  it." 
Then  a  faraway  expression  came  into  her  face. 
"I  hardly  count  on  his  white  shoes  for  all  the 
year  round,"  she  absently  observed. 

Even  as  she  speculated,  the  Jap  appeared 
between  Kiskillim  curtains.  "Madam  is 
served,"  he  announced  with  one  hand  pressed 
to  his  heart,  the  other  one  at  the  side  of  a 
jacket  no  longer  spotless. 

But  hope  stirred  eternal.  Still  it  was  tacitly 
agreed  that  the  Fujiyama  for  the  kitchen 
should  not  be  painted  until  after  the  dinner. 

"A  scaffolding  might  disturb  culinary 
fancies;  if  he  struck  his  head,  for  instance, 
stars  instead  of  patties  might  be  the  result," 
the  master  wisely  ventured. 

But  on  Thursday  evening,  the  night  before 
the  affair  on  hand,  the  mistress  seemed  greatly 
depressed.  In  vain  her  husband  sought  to 
cheer  her. 


THE  UNDERSTUDY  51 

"I  wish  you  would  stop  joking,"  she  com 
plained. 

Her  spouse  flipped  the  ashes  from  a  cigar 
and  smiled.  "Don't  get  discouraged,"  he 
coaxed.  "You  cannot  always  expect  a  first- 
class  dinner  from  any  cook ;  to-morrow  he  will 
give  us  a  corker." 

"But  his  clothes,"  she  cried.  "He  has  be 
come  a  perfect  fright.  Yesterday  morning  he 
shed  his  soiled  shoes,  then  by  night  his  jacket 
had  become  an  absolute  disgrace,  all  stained 
with  plum  juice." 

"He's  saving  a  fresh  outfit  for  your  din 
ner,"  the  husband  assured  her. 

"Do  you  really  think  so  9"  she  laughed  hys 
terically,  catching  at  the  straw  of  comfort. 
"I  have  tried  my  best  to  peep  into  his  room; 
but  he  keeps  it  locked,  and  there  is  no  chance 
of  seeing  through  the  keyhole.  Jane  doesn't 
believe  that  he  owns  another  full  set  of  linens, 
but  thinks  he'll  do  washing  to-night  and  iron 
his  clothes  in  the  morning.  She  says  she  has 
often  seen  a  Jap  press  out  a  fresh  jacket  be 
tween  courses  at  dinner.  I  don't  want  to  fol 
low  him  too  closely,  but  I  am  awfully  worried. 


52         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

His  cooking  has  fallen  off  right  along;  if  he 
should  turn  up  to-morrow  evening  without  any 
clothes  it  would  be  simply  dreadful." 

" Scandalous!'7  agreed  the  master. 

"I  fail  to  appreciate  your  wit,"  she  cried, 
crossly.  "We  had  no  business  to  invite  those 
people  before  we  knew  just  what  to  expect. 
And  I  suppose  you  have  told  the  men  all 
sorts  of  nonsense." 

"To  be  sure.  They  were  all  charmed  with 
my  invitation.  I  told  them  to  look  for  some 
thing  fine,  quite  on  the  order  of  a  *  linen 
shower,'  with  all  sorts  of  'far  East'  touches 
thrown  in.  Horton  and  Roe  both  decided  to 
lunch  on  iced  tea  and  crackers  on  Friday,  and 
the  Bishop  said  to  tell  you  that  he  would  do 
his  weekly  fast  during  the  first  two  meals  of 
the  day." 

"You  would  be  more  of  a  man  if  you  gave 
up  being  facetious.  I  am  positively  worn  out 
with  the  heat  and  it's  all  your  fault,  asking 
those  men  to  dinner.  Dear,  dear;  little  Tom 
is  crying  again.  Jane  says  he  is  growing  ter 
ribly  spoiled.  Every  time  he  wakes  in  the 
evening  she  has  to  hold  his  hand  till  he  quiets 


53 

down.  He  is  getting  to  be  just  like  a  real 
man;  so  exacting,  and  ridiculously  sentimen 
tal." 

"Like  Ms  grandfather." 

*  *  Exactly.  And  Julia  can 't  say  that  we  have 
spoiled  her  son  when  she  gets  back  from  Eu 
rope." 

She  turned  gloomily  to  cross  the  room  with 
strong  presentiment.  A  tap  on  the  door 
called  her  without.  The  thing  she  expected 
had  happened.  Shorn  of  white  glory,  deeply 
afflicted  with  sudden  pain,  the  Jap  addressed 
her. 

"I  very  sorry — but — my  head  all  sick.  My 
heart  makes  very  sad  that  I  go." 

"Go?"  she  repeated,  sweeping  with  scorn 
ful  eyes  the  demoralized  dream  of  a  passing 
butler.  "You  wish  to  leave  me?  You  do  not 
remember  that  I  have  invited  friends  to  din 
ner — that  everything  has  been  fully  arranged 
for  to-morrow  ?  You  cannot  go. " 

"I  sorry — very  sorry,  but  I  go.  I  no  can 
stay.  Kitchen  too  hot.  My  head  crazy.  I 
think  I  go  learn  be  doctor." 

She  saw  the  futility  of  argument.     He  was 


54         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

bowing  low  before  her;  one  hand  above  his 
heart,  the  other  clutching  his  hair.  An  instant 
later  he  had  vanished.  Then  the  tragedy  of 
the  approaching  dinner  took  hold  of  her,  and 
she  burst  out  wrathfully. 

"The  odious  creature  has  gone!  Actually 
gone!  Every  vestige  of  white  apparel  has 
been  dropped,  even  his  trousers !" 

"Good  gracious !"  cried  her  husband.  "A 
linen  shower,  for  sure." 

"Now  his  trousers  are  brown — horrid  old 
butternut  things,  not  fit  to  be  seen,"  she  pro 
claimed.  "He  looks  just  like  a  hod  carrier. 
I  knew  from  the  first  he  could  never  keep  up 
such  spotless  pretense ;  but  I  didn't  dream  that 
he  was  a  whited  sepulcher,  with  only  a  ghost 
of  a  wardrobe.  Now  perhaps  you  will  under 
stand  why  I  do  not  go  into  ecstasies  over  new 
servants.  You  will  have  to  tell  those  men  not 
to  come  to  dinner  until  next  week ;  meanwhile 
I  shall  do  my  best  to  get  a  China  boy. 

"Just  think  of  the  comfort  we  had  with  the 
Yellow  Angel!"  She  was  half  tearful. 
"Even  when  I  gave  him  a  vacation  he  always 
came  home  ahead  of  the  allotted  time.  He  ac- 


THE  UNDERSTUDY  55 

tually  loved  to  work.  Before  lie  left  for 
China,  when  you  were  trying  to  fix  up  his  re 
turn  papers,  he  gave  us  all — Julia's  baby,  even 
Jane — such  pretty  farewell  gifts ;  every  one  of 
them  in  perfect  taste,  presented  with  real  feel 
ing." 

She  was  growing  reminiscent  "Just  think 
what  delicious  bread  he  made.  And  his 
soups  and  desserts,  how  perfect!  He  never 
seemed  tired  of  trying  to  please  us.  Don't 
you  remember  the  time  he  went  to  San 
Bernardo  to  see  his  brother?  He  had  ex 
pected  to  be  gone  a  week,  but  on  the  evening 
of  the  third  day  I  happened  to  hear  the 
screen  door  of  the  summer  kitchen  softly 
open — and  there  was  the  Yellow  Angel, 
ready  to  get  our  breakfast  the  next  morning. 
'Not  velly  much  fun  take  vacation,'  he  con 
fessed.  'Jus'  walk  lound — look  store  lindow 
— lide  'lectric  car — get  heap  tired.'  His 
words  made  a  text  for  his  character.  We  '11 
never  have  a  bit  of  comfort  or  a  wholesome 
thing  to  eat  until  he  comes  home." 


CHAPTER  IV 

ALL  SAME  FAN-TAN 

THE  stag  dinner  of  Saturday  night  had 
made  the  master  late  to  Sunday's  break 
fast.  He  was  not  contemplating  divine  serv 
ice.  The  soft  air  of  June  wafted  through  open 
French  windows,  while  without  he  heard  a 
Gloria  of  birds  and  felt  the  call  of  a  perfect 
day.  The  Yellow  Angel  was  once  more  in 
California;  again  cooking  and  ministering  to 
famished  souls  of  Temple  Hill.  This  morn 
ing  he  seemed  unduly  solicitous  for  the  mas 
ter's  health.  He  kept  fluttering  about  the 
table  until  at  last  curiosity  got  the  better  of 
him  and  he  spoke  out,  like  a  child. 

"I  know  that  cook  down  Mr.  Bain  house — 
where  you  go  las'  night,"  he  exulted.  "He 
velly  gland!  More  better  Ian  me?"  he  mod 
estly  questioned. 

"We  had  a  very  good  dinner,"  the  master 

56 


ALL  SAME  FAN-TAN          57 

answered  without  undue  enthusiasm.  To 
Chang's  evident  joy  the  cook  at  Bain's  had  not 
eclipsed  his  own  previous  effort.  His  yellow 
brow  shone  triumphant. 

"That  fiend  tell  me  all  'bout  party,"  he 
again  ventured.  "He  say  hot  time — hot 
dlinks — heap  money  get  bet — all  same  fan- 
tan." 

Embarrassing  silence  followed,  but  the  Yel 
low  Angel  was  wound  up. 

' 1 1  bet  my  fiend  one  dollar  my  boss  get  heap 
most  plunk."  He  glanced  admiringly  at  the 
master.  "My  fiend  bet  one  dollar  he  boss  got 
most  plunk."  Childlike  curiosity  sharpened 
his  voice  with  rising  inflection.  "Why  you 
not  tell  me?"  he  persisted.  "If  you  not  tell 
me — my  fiend  make  me  pay  one  dollar — I  not 
like  that." 

The  disastrous  outcome  was  so  personal  that 
the  tender-hearted  master  twirled  a  silver  dol 
lar  upon  the  tray. 

"You  shall  not  be  out  of  pocket  on  my  ac 
count,"  he  declared. 

The  Celestial  looked  foolishly  at  the  coin. 

"American  gentlemen  do  not  care  to  boast 


58        THE  Y         .       •"   AXGEL 

of  their  good  fortune,"  the  master  added  eva 
sively.  "Tell  your  friend  to  ask  his  own  boss 
for  particulars." 

He  leaned  hack  in  his  chair  and  laughed 
guiltily.  But  the  Yellow  Angel  did  not  re 
tire.  Something  was  on  his  mind — something 
back:  of  the  point  in  question.  He  fingered  his 
tray,  then  spoke  desperately. 

"That  fiend  I  tell  you  *bout  get  allest  down 
Chinatown." 

"Indeed!"  said  the  master.  "What  was 
the  matter?" 

**Las*  night  he  play  fan-tan  all  same  he 
boss."  The  reply  came  with  strange  direct 
ness.  "He  say  he  boss  not  get  allest — he 
think  that  old  cop  not  allest  China  boys.  He 
teQ  me  not  fair  do  udder  way.  He  say  he  feel 
big  hick  hisself,  every  ti*"c  he  see  gentlemen 
— get  lot  money — heap  easy — all  same  fan-tan. 
After  he  wash  dishes — plitty  late — he  go  that 
loom — Tnakp  hot  stuff — bling  «1anH1i<»h  -  leu  he 
see.  AD.  that  lich  gentlemen  take  out  check 
book — settle  up.  Big  pile  money.  Plitty 
soon  he  watch  that  gam<»  heap  hard.  Fan-tan 
more  easy!  He  feel  sure  he  get  lich  all  same 


ALL  SAME  PAN-TAN          59 

boss.  When  people  go  home — lie  go  down 
Chinatown — take  little  vacation — make  little 
money,  he  hope.  That  mistless  velly  kind — 
cause  he  cook  so  grand!  so  many  big  dinner! 
She  say  take  good  time — second  girl  get 
meals." 

"And  your  friend  went  down  to  the  quarter 
and  got  arrested  for  playing  fan-tan?"  the 
master  pressed. 

"Yes,"  the  Angel  answered,  "he  get  allest 
first  game — old  cop  catch  on  easy.  I  make 
sneak!  No  cop  catch  me!"  he  affirmed  with 
pride.  "I  find  my  wheel — get  away  fast!  I 
not  play— jus'  look  on." 

"I  am  glad  you  escaped,"  said  the  master. 
"How  about  the  other  boys — were  they  taken 
to  the  police  station?" 

"Yes,  all  get  lock  up.  Too  many  fellows! 
Patrol  wagon  too  little,  no  can  hold  ten  boys — 
old  cops  heap  mean — tie  all  those  queue  one 
bunch — drive  boys  all  same  horses.  My  fiend 
heap  terrible  mad.  He  say  he  boss  not  stand 
that.  He  cuss  all  same  American  man — tell 
cop  he  boss  get  him  out  light  off — soon  he  tele 
phone.  Cop  say  he  may  do  that.  Plitty  soon 


60        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

boss  call  up  police  station — say  let  cook  come 
home  light  off;  bail  be  all  light — any  old  thing 
— one  hundred  dollar!  one  thousand  dollar! 
Boss  not  care.  My  flend  still  heap  mad — heap 
scare;  len  he  find  me.  I  say  come  his  house, 
we  consult.  Plitty  soon  we  jump  'lectric  car 
— get  safe — far  away  those  cops." 

"Bad  business/'  said  the  master. 

Chang  nodded ;  then  a  smile  spread  upon  his 
countenance. 

"I  glad  I  skip  plenty  time!"  he  exulted. 

The  master  played  thoughtfully  with  his 
fork. 

"What  is  your  friend  going  to  do  when  his 
case  comes  up  for  trial?"  he  asked. 

With  furtive  glance  Chang  laid  bare  his 
plan. 

"Oh,  that  nothing!"  he  declared.  "When 
my  flend  consult,  I  tell  him  my  boss  make  old 
cops  heap  sick.  I  say  my  boss  best  lawyer  in 
city." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  gentleman. 

"I  say  Los  Angeles  big  place — many  people 
do  bad  thing — my  boss  catch  on — not  let  them 


ALL  SAME  FAN-TAN          61 

be  punish — be  solly — help  bad  men  get  new 
chance." 

The  master's  wife  shook  behind  her  napkin. 
"Your  reputation  is  now  unique,"  she  de 
clared. 

Chang  glanced  at  her  appealingly.  "I  not 
know  that  word.  'You  tell  me?" 

He  was  proud  of  his  English  vocabulary  and 
fond  of  unusual  phraseology.  The  lady  ex 
plained  the  meaning  of  unique  as  best  she 
could.  The  heathen  repeated  the  term  with 
confidence.  "  Eunick!  eunick!  Yes,"  he 
boasted.  "I  understand;  plitty  soon  I  tell 
China  boys  my  master  that  great,  eunick  law 
yer." 

He  laughed  gleefully.  "I  say  my  boss  heap 
better — more  smart — more  wise — more  kind — 
good — all  same  great  eunick  lawyer!  I  say 
my  boss  heap  solly  boys  get  allest;  not  think 
fan-tan  velly  bad — jus'  little  fun.  I  say  my 
boss  win  lot  money  hisself;  more  lari  poor 
Chinaman.  But  boss  not  be  allest!  Not  be 
allest,  'cause  he  big,  eunick  lawyer." 

"Hold  on!"  cried  the  master.    "You  must 


62        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

say  nothing  of  the  kind.  Great  Scott !  you  will 
ruin  my  practice  if  you  go  about  talking  like 
that.  See  here,  you  just  let  me  attend  to  the 
case  of  your  friend  in  private.  Send  him  up 
to  my  office  this  afternoon.  I'll  see  him  at 
four  o'clock  and  get  him  off  from  jail  if  I 
can ;  but  you  must  keep  quiet — not  say  a  word 
to  the  other  boys.  I  don't  wish  for  a  general 
fan-tan  practice — it's  positively  out  of  my 
line." 

1  'And  in  the  future?"  suggested  his  wife. 

"My  dear,"  he  faltered,  "don't  speak  of  the 
future;  the  present  is  quite  sufficient  to  face. 
In  fact,  I  seem  to  be  suddenly  involved  in  a 
regular  Ibsen  tragedy.  My  legal  brain  feels 
inside  out  and  upside  down,  and  you  must  not 
expect  me  to  reform  in  a  moment.  But  I 
promise  you  one  thing — I'll  taper  off.  For 
the  first  time  I  understand  Martin  Luther's 
remorse  after  playing  tip-cat.  It's  monstrous 
to  be  self -ordained  as  a  foreign  missionary  all 
in  a  day.  I  had  no  idea  the  heathen  were  keep 
ing  tab  on  my  occasional  indiscretions." 

He  laughed  as  the  Yellow  Angel  vanished 
behind  an  Oriental  screen. 


ALL  SAME  FAN-TAN          63 

"The  heathen  in  his  blindness  will  soon  be 
as  extinct  as  the  bad  Indian,''  he  soberly  de 
duced. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES 

THE  mistress  of  Temple  Hill  crossed  the 
lawn  to  a  rose  arbor,  where  her  grand 
son  took  his  noon-day  meal.  She  found  the 
Prince  of  the  Summerhouse  already  bibbed 
and  seated.  His  nurse  was  in  attendance,  with 
two  graceful  hounds,  keenly  watching  for 
stray  morsels  from  their  little  master's  table. 
It  was  a  pretty  picture,  and  the  grandmother 
joined  the  party  with  shining  eyes. 

" Dinner!  dinner!  I  want  my  soup!" 
shouted  the  Prince.  He  struck  the  table  with 
a  spoon;  for  in  range  of  his  gloating  vision 
came  Sue  Chang  bearing  a  tray. 

" Little  man  heap  hungry!"  the  beaming 
Chinaman  declared  as  he  placed  a  small  tureen 
of  silver  before  the  boy.  To-day,  in  the  noon 
day  sun  the  Celestial's  white  garments  shone 

64 


spotless.  Above  his  golden  forehead  a  neatly 
coiled  queue  made  halo;  yet,  withal,  the  hea 
then's  expression  was  troubled. 

The  mistress  of  the  Hill  saw  that  Chang 
stood  embarrassed  by  a  grave  desire. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "What  can  I  do 
for  you?" 

The  golden  brow  cleared  instantly;  Chang's 
white  teeth  gleamed.  "I  like  take  two  three 
days  off  on  business,"  he  announced  without 
prelude.  "Jane  get  meals — when  I  come 
home,  I  bling  her  nice  plesent."  The  lady's 
cook  had  not  asked  for  an  unusual  privilege 
since  his  return  from  China  some  nineteen 
months  back. 

"I  think  I  can  arrange  to  let  you  go,"  she 
answered.  The  Celestial  beamed.  "All  work 
— not  play,  sometime  make  dull,"  he  stated 
with  oracular  directness. 

"I  understand."  She  believed  enthusias 
tically  in  heathen  evolution  and  was  no  longer 
dumbfounded  when  her  ambitious  Yellow 
Angel  flung  forth  a  Yankee  precept.  Through 
her  mind  there  passed  amusing  episodes  which 
made  the  gradual  development  of  Chang  a  mat- 


66        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

ter  for  both  ethical  and  family  pride.  Yet  a 
lurking  fear  often  oppressed  her.  When  she 
had  not  the  true  missionary  spirit  at  hand,  she 
sometimes  wondered  if  too  much  learning 
might  not  produce  madness;  at  least,  enlarge 
her  model  servant's  head.  Would  the  circum 
ference  of  Chang's  neatly-coiled  queue  in 
crease  to  an  abnormal  size  when  he  lost  the 
picturesque  traditions  of  pig-tailed  ancestors 
and  had  even  partially  grasped  confusing  ten 
ets  of  a  new  faith,  allied  to  republican  prog 
ress  ?  The  unsolved  problem  stood  out  afresh 
on  this  particular  morning;  for  of  late  the 
Celestial  had  been  proudly  boasting  of  his  as 
sociation  with  a  Chinese  reform  party,  called 
"The  Bow  Wong  Woy."  All  over  the  coun 
try,  and  recently  in  the  heart  of  Los  Angeles ' 
Chinatown,  a  new,  exciting  movement  incited 
heathens  to  strange  deeds  and  daring  opinions. 
Into  the  Southwest  one  Ling  Chi  Choo,  a 
mogul  of  education  and  repute,  had  come  from 
San  Francisco  to  expound  the  gospel  of  re 
form.  As  a  result  of  his  eloquence  and  thrill 
ing  parallels  run  on  lines  of  recent  Japanese 
achievement,  a  large  company  of  yellow  sol- 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      67 

diers  were  duly  enrolled  for  modern  military 
instruction. 

At  the  present  time,  in  the  heart  of  the  Los 
Angeles  quarter,  an  arduous  squad  perspired 
and  evoluted  to  the  stirring  commands  of  a 
young  West  Point  lieutenant.  Now  each 
evening  Celestial  merchants,  vegetable  vend 
ors,  laundrymen  and  cooks  from  both  urban 
and  suburban  establishments,  drilled  in  se 
rious,  half -pathetic  excitement.  Gay  flowing 
sleeves  of  the  Fatherland  had  been  suddenly 
ruthlessly  sacrificed ;  lost,  it  almost  seemed,  in 
the  gorgeous  rays  of  the  sun  sinking  down  to 
far  old  China.  Then,  with  a  current  of  garish 
electric  light,  it  also  became  plain  that  even 
long-prescribed  queues  of  Manchu  supremacy 
had  dropped  away.  Instead  of  Celestial  gar 
ments,  sons  of  Confucius  wore,  half-sheep- 
ishly,  misfit  bargains  from  second-hand  Jew 
dealers.  The  thought  of  the  dull,  motley, 
shambling  Mongolian  company,  despoiled  of 
queues  and  color,  drilling  each  evening  in  the 
opium-stained  haunts  of  the  old  quarter,  ap 
peared  like  a  portentous  tragedy  to  the  mis 
tress  of  Temple  Hill. 


68        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

That  the  powerful  influence  of  mysterious 
tongs — the  great  Six  Companies — should  at 
last  be  doomed  by  milder  fascinations  of  Amer 
ican  military  tactics,  seemed  incredible. 
When  these  yellow  sons  went  back  to  the 
fatherland  without  their  queues,  to  lily-footed 
spouses  and  aged  parents  hopelesslly  dull  to 
modern  ways  and  reasoning — what  would  hap 
pen? 

She  acknowledged  her  ignorance. 

"Do  you  expect  to  spend  your  vacation  at 
San  Bernardino,  in  the  hotel  where  your 
brother  does  cooking?"  she  asked,  with  ingen 
ious  interest  frequently  employed  to  decoy 
Celestial  confidence.  Chang's  answer  she 
half  surmised.  His  countenance  furrowed. 

"Oh,  no;  I  not  go  there.  My  bludder  work 
all  day — make  me  cook  all  same  my  own 
kitchen.  I  more  better  stay  Los  Angeles — 
that  cheef  ul — not  cost  much.  I  see  flens,  have 
good  time.  My  bludder  not  care  have  good 
time — just  cook.  My  bludder  heap  stingy — 
not  understand.  Reform  Party — heap  stu 
pid.  He  say  he  always  be  jus'  Chinaman, 
back  home." 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      69 

Chang,  the  proud  reformer,  spread  his 
hands  with  enlightened  disgust. 

"You  velly  kind  let  me  take  that  vacation," 
he  went  on,  with  the  complacency  of  a  child 
who  has  attained  his  point.  "I  jus'  rest  over 
Chinatown.  Sleep  lot,"  he  acknowledged 
frankly.  "One  evening  I  go  Our  Lord's  sup 
per  all  same  Plesbeterian  church." 

"And  the  other  evenings'?"  she  asked. 
"What  will  you  do  with  those?" 

Chang's  sacrificial  spirit  was  corrupted  in 
an  instant;  carnal  anticipations  thrilled  his 
voice. 

"Other  nights  I  see  boys  dlill.  Now  all 
get  new  uniform  all  same  'Melican  sogers." 

The  Celestial  went  on  proudly.  "Yes, 
many  my  flens  go  march  Los  Angeles'  China 
town.  That  Eeform  Party  tell  Chinese  pitch 
in,  learn  all  same  Japanese.  These  United 
States  show  Japan  'bout  war ;  now  Japan  lick 
Russia  sure!  Course  that  Port  Larthur  not 
stand  those  Japs!  I  bet  all  time  those  big 
Russia  ship  get  sunk!  Japs  heap  smart — 
learn  all  same  this  cluntry,  go  home  tell  that 
Emperor  many  things.  That  Emperor  not 


70        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

big  fool  like  Emperor  back  China ;  not  let  old 
aunt  sit  on  throne,  keep  things  hot — make  all 
dark.  Japs  smarter  'bout  war  than  Chinese. 
Chinese  use  old  swords — just  find  out  'Melican 
gun.  Reform  Party  more  sense;  not  foolish 
like  those  Boxer.  Reform  Party  understand 
gun  can  shoot  all  same  with  little  man — all 
same  with  big  man.  Japs  lick  Chinese  last 
time,  plaps  next  time  Chinese  lick  Japs.  Re 
form  Party  tell  us  pitch  in,  get  knowledge." 

"Then  you  feel  sure  that  Japan  will  defeat 
Russia?" 

"Sure!"  the  Celestial  cried  with  confidence 
born  of  reform.  "Sure,  little  Japan  lick  that 
big  Russia.  Ling  Chi  Choo  explain  all  that. 
He  say  poor  Russia  people  not  love  cluntry 
like  poor  Japs.  Rich  Russia  people  heap 
mean  over  there ;  poor  people  unhappy — have 
no  right — not  care  they  get  conquer.  Russia 
sogers  not  fight  like  Japs — hard!  same  cat! 
same  fierce  dog!  Japs  not  care  they  die — 
when  cluntry  lick  enemy. ' ' 

His  illustrations  were  convincing;  the  mis 
tress  of  the  Hill  perceived  that  her  heathen  al- 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      71 

ready  understood  the  philosophy  of  refined 
warfare. 

When  next  Chang  spoke,  she  experienced  a 
shock. 

"I  guess  I  cut  off  my  queue,"  he  calmly  an 
nounced. 

There  was  apparently  no  emotion  in  his 
voice;  but  the  plain  statement  appeared  to 
challenge  millions  of  Celestial  ghosts.  The 
mistress  of  the  Hill  thought  she  saw  dynasties 
of  spooks  behind  the  invisible  veil  of  Time. 
Whitening  bones  and  rotting  grave  finery  col 
ored  her  imagination  and  sent  a  creepy  sensa 
tion  along  her  spine. 

"Cut  off  your  queue V  she  repeated  in  dire 
dismay. 

"Yes,  I  cut  him  off — I  think  Reform  Party 
all  cut  off  queue;  then  Chinese  be  men!  same 
United  States.  Lot  my  flens  get  'Melican 
clothes,"  he  went  on.  "One  fellow — you 
know — Mis'  Blown's  cook?  He  wear  heap 
nice  store  suit ;  cut  off  he  queue,  look  all  same 
any  man." 

"Mrs.  Brown's  cook  has  cut  off  his  queue?" 


72         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

she  repeated.  It  was  difficult  to  fancy  the 
loss.  A  Chinaman  without  hirsute  appendage 
seemed  even  more  confusing  than  Satan  de 
prived  of  cloven  hoof  or  a  man  without  a  coun 
try. 

Chang  nodded.  "Yes,  Mis'  Blown 's  cook 
Kim  Lee — cut  off  queue.  He  say  he  feel  heap 
good — nice — cool — clean — not  have  any  more 
that  expense.  He  tell  me  cut  off  my  queue 
too." 

"You  must  not  think  of  such  a  thing!"  she 
forbade. 

"Maybe  I  do." 

"But  could  you  go  back  to  China?" 

She  wished  if  possible  to  stir  Chang's  natal 
sentiment ;  and  the  true  missionary  spirit  was 
not  with  her.  She  liked  the  picturesque  ef 
fect  of  a  neatly  coiled  queue  above  a  golden 
brow;  the  Oriental  custom  went  with  snow- 
white  garments ;  she  could  not  bear  to  contem 
plate  her  Celestial  despoiled. 

"I  should  think  you  would  not  care  to  re 
turn  to  your  .wife  and  family  without  your 
queue,"  she  ventured  warmly. 

For  an  instant  the  dusky  face  of  the  Orien- 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      73 

tal  grew  troubled;  then  the  bold  stare  of  the 
reformer  hardened  his  expression. 

"I  think  my  queue  no  good,"  he  announced. 
"Just  old  pig-tail!  'Melicans  say  that.  I 
think  I  cut  him  off  right  now.  Some  day  I 
go  home  China — maybe  I  hitch  him  on  again. 
I  sure  my  wife,  my  fadder,  my  mudder,  be 
heap  disappoint ? — I  no  want  them  feel  bad. 
They  not  understand  Reform  Party,  be  heap 
dark.  My  wife  not  read,  just  sew,  have  little 
foot,  not  walk  stlong,  all  same  you.  I  velly 
solly  my  wife  that  way — but  no  can  help. 
Some  day  I  show  my  boy  many  thing.  When 
I  go  back  home,  I  tell  him  join  Reform  Party, 
do  all  same  United  States.  Some  day  I  make 
my  family  heap  wise." 

The  lady  shuddered  at  the  prospect  for  the 
old  folks  at  home.  How  she  pitied  the  little 
wife  of  the  lily  feet!  Poor  little  numskull, 
hobbling  in  blissful  ignorance  of  her  absent 
lord's  awakening,  how  miserable  would  she  be 
when  at  last  she  beheld  him,  despoiled  of  an 
cestral  distinction — docked,  so  to  speak,  of  Ce 
lestial  glory! 

The  sympathy  of  an  American  wife  wafted 


74         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

across  the  broad  Pacific  to  the  desolate,  tiny 
home  of  the  woman  who  could  not  under 
stand.  And  would  she  ever  understand,  this 
poor  little  golden  servant  of  men,  who  had 
been  used  to  nothing  but  the  simplest  precepts 
of  his  inexorable  will  1  Poor  little  Yang  Mu ! 
Would  not  the  true  God  in  heaven  send  her 
consolation  from  out  the  stony  eyes  of  the 
only  deities  she  had  ever  trusted?  Not  hav 
ing  the  true  orthodox  spirit,  the  mistress  of 
the  Hill  hoped  devoutly  that  when  miserable 
Yang  Mu,  in  emulation  of  the  Christian  hymn, 
" bowed  down  to  blocks  of  wood  and  stone," 
she  would  find  comfort  and  cease  to  be  fright 
ened  by  the  unnatural  aspect  of  her  reformed 
spouse.  Chang's  next  home-coming  wras  sure 
to  be  tragic! 

But  the  Celestial  resumed  excitedly. 

"Ling  CM  Choo  tell  Chinamen"  (he  proudly 
eliminated  the  long-familiar  term  "  China- 
boys")  "Ling  Chi  Choo  tell  Chinamen  all  cut 
off  queues!  be  same  citizens  these  United 
States.  Ling  Chi  Choo  say  women  have  long 
hair,  not  men!  Yes,  I  go  Chinatown,  cut  off 
my  queue.  Too  much  expense  keep  that  old 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      75 

pigtail  nice — heap  foolish — not  healthy.  I 
solly  my  family  back  China  be  disappoint', 
but  no  can  help.  I  belong  Reform  Party. 
Must  do  that — all  same  my  flens." 

Chang  walked  away.  His  parting  shot 
rang  like  a  challenge  to  a  Celestial  century  but 
scarcely  born.  The  mistress  of  the  Hill  sank 
down  in  the  summer-house,  amazed.  Again 
the  unhappy  plight  of  far-away  Yang  Mu 
stirred  her  heart.  Natural  sympathy  of  one 
woman  for  another  showed  her  the  bitter  side 
of  unequal  domestic  development.  Only  a 
short  time  back  this  same  Celestial  husband 
had  boasted  loudly  of  his  wife's  thrift. 

"She  make  all  my  clothes!"  he  proudly  con 
fided,  sailing  away  that  same  afternoon  on 
his  bicycle,  clad  in  a  coat  of  her  skillful  fash 
ioning.  The  garment  was  a  beautiful  shade 
of  purple,  flowing  and  picturesque  in  the 
breeze.  On  another  occasion  Chang  displayed 
a  gorgeously  embroidered  belt  sent  by  the 
woman  as  a  gift  to  her  absent  lord.  The 
needlework  was  exquisite,  while  tucked  away 
in  an  ingenious  secret  pocket  was  a  good-luck 
piece — one  of  the  golden  buttons  from  poor 


76        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Yang  Mu's  wedding  jacket.  At  the  present 
time  the  incident  returned  with  prophetic 
force.  And  through  days  following  the  mis 
tress  found  herself  strangely  interested  in  the 
rising  problem  of  the  queue. 

Soon  she  knew  that  tragedies  were  occur 
ring  each  hour  in  the  heart  of  Los  Angeles' 
Chinatown.  The  old  quarter  had  been  seized 
by  an  epidemic.  Japanese  barbers — Philis 
tines  who  cringed  not — throve  in  trade,  and 
hundreds  of  Celestial  pigtails  fell  with  stoical 
thud  to  the  demand  of  the  great  "Bow  Wong 
Woy."  After  centuries,  the  sleeping  Flow 
ery  Kingdom  was  arousing.  In  the  old  quar 
ter  reform  eclipsed  fan-tan ;  the  awakening  of 
the  dragon  was  at  hand ! 

But  while  she  awaited  a  transformed  Celes 
tial,  she  kept  her  own  counsel ;  perhaps,  after 
all,  Chang  might  return  unshorn.  Then  on 
Saturday  night,  quite  late — even  at  the  wee 
small  hour  of  "jag  car"  supremacy — she  knew 
by  the  barking  of  the  hounds  that  a  dreaded 
moment  had  arrived ;  her  heathen,  ruined  from 
an  aesthetic  viewpoint,  had  come  home. 
Aroused  from  a  cat  nap,  she  heard  the  click 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      77 

of  Chang 's  key  in  the  door  of  his  little  house ; 
felt  instinctively  that  the  problem  of  the 
queue  was  at  hand.  In  an  adjoining  room 
her  husband,  with  night-hawk  proclivities, 
was  lost  in  his  book.  The  wife  called  to  him 
excitedly,  and  he  came  running  with  staring 
eyes  and  mystified  entreaty. 

"It's  Chang!"  she  cried.  "He's  back  from 
his  vacation,  back  from  Chinatown.  Go,  see 
what  is  happening.  He's  cut  off  his  queue! 
The  dogs  are  tearing  him  to  pieces!" 

Scarcely  grasping  the  force  of  the  command, 
the  master  lapsed  from  mediaeval  history  into 
a  chapter  of  modern  economics,  as  he  beheld 
from  an  upper  balcony  a  transformed  hea 
then's  portentous  struggle  for  liberty.  Now, 
after  years  of  devotion,  the  ungrateful 
hounds  savagely  refused  to  know  their  Celes 
tial  friend  in  atrocious  store  clothes.  De 
spoiled  of  his  queue,  uncertain  of  equilibrium, 
sheepish  in  convincing  moonlight,  poor  Chang 
begged  the  brutes  in  vain  for  mercy.  It  was  a 
pathetic  apparition.  The  master  recalled  the 
predicament  of  the  little  old  woman  shorn  of 
her  petticoats ;  then  his  stentorian  voice  smote 


78        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

the  air,  as  he  rushed  below  to  skarne  the  skulk 
ing  dogs.  It  seemed  to  the  wife  that  he  would 
never  return;  when  he  finally  did  so,  she  was 
quivering  with  suspense. 

"Why  do  you  not  tell  me?"  she  cried. 
"Has  he  really  cut  off  his  queue?  How  does 
he  look  in  store  clothes!  Did  he  show  you 
his  severed  pigtails  in  a  poor  little  bundle  all 
ready  for  cremation  1 ' ' 

She  asked  the  questions  in  one  breath. 
Under  the  circumstances,  the  deliberation  of 
the  master  was  exasperating. 

"Did  I  see  the  severed  queue?  I  should 
say  not,"  he  at  length  answered.  "To-night 
the  public  flaunting  of  an  ancestral  appendage 
would  be  unseemly  to  any  Celestial  with  a  ves 
tige  of  sentiment;  in  Chang's  case  the  sugges 
tion  is  brutaL  I  am  astonished  that  you 
should  discount  his  feeling.  Besides,  our  ex- 
heathen  is  none  too  happy  at  present.  I  do 
not  believe  that  he  is  quite  proud  of  a  volun 
tary  metamorphosis.  As  yet  he  is  having  a 
tussle  with  the  ghosts  of  his  ancestors;  the 
rage  of  the  hounds,  by  comparison,  is  a  trivial 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES     79 

matter.  In  fact,  the  ordeal  of  parting  with 
his  queue  is  tragic.  Poor  fellow,  he  did  not 
understand  what  he  was  getting  into." 

"Oh,  yes,  he  did,"  the  wise  lady  objected. 
"Just  before  he  went  to  Los  Angeles  he  told 
me  exactly  what  he  expected  to  do  in  case  he 
should  find  domestic  relations  uncomfortable 
when  he  goes  back  to  China.  He  is  fully  pre 
pared  for  the  contingencies  of  the  fatherland- 
He  simply  intends  to  preserve  his  queue;  to 
tack  it  on  again,  if  Yang  Mu  makes  a  row." 

"Fancy  him  packing  his  pigtail  away  with 
moth  balls,"  laughed  her  husband,  "possibly 
in  a  cast-off  baking-powder  canister  from  the 
ash  heap!" 

"Don't  laugh;  it  is  all  too  sad  and  perplex 
ing,"  she  reproved.  "But  joking  aside,  I  fear 
the  Yellow  Angel  will  soon  be  a  tradition. 
How  ridiculous  our  Chang  will  look  in  Ameri 
can  store  clothes !  Imagine  him  with  a  stand 
ing  collar!  Of  course  he  will  wear  a  stick 
pin  and  a  four-in-hand,  and  cheap  finger  rings. 
Alas!  the  Yellow  Angel;  I  simply  cannot  be 
lieve  that  he  will  be  the  same  perfect  servant 


80         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Do  you  suppose  his  muffins  will  rise  as  high  or 
his  cake  be  as  light,  without  the  magic  of  a 
queue?" 

She  paused  for  breath. 

"Where  is  your  missionary  spirit?"  asked 
the  master. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  acknowledged.  "Of 
course,  I  want  the  world  to  progress.  I  want 
every  living  soul  to  have  one  big  chance;  but 
with  regard  to  the  case  in  question  I  am  not 
at  all  sure  of  the  outcome.  Possibly  my  fears 
arise  from  a  woman's  standpoint,  for  I  can 
not  gloat  as  men  do  over  an  uncertainty.  The 
eventual  problem  of  the  yellow  race — perhaps 
hundreds  of  years  hence — does  not  work  me  up 
to-night.  Now  I  am  simply  speculating  about 
Chang,  thinking  of  little  Yang  Mu.  Only  the 
tragedy  of  one  particular  queue  is  before  me ; 
I  cannot  help  feeling  that  Celestial  Samson 
has  been  shorn  for  sorrow — despoiled  of  sim 
ple  elemental  strength." 

She  stepped  outside  on  the  balcony  and 
caught  like  an  apostrophe  to  her  words  the 
dank  breath  of  the  Pacific.  A  fog  rolling  in 
from  the  coast  ten  miles  away  blurred  the 


QUEUE  OF   CENTURIES      81 

moon,  that,  weird  and  uncertain,  appeared  to 
foretell  a  portentous  drama  for  races  beyond 
the  sea.  Listening  in  fancy  to  breakers  of 
the  night,  miles  of  ocean  waves  voiced  cries 
of  awakening  nations.  The  mystic,  flowery, 
superstitious,  far-away  East  seemed  to  suppli 
cate  the  mighty  civilized  West ;  to  ask  for  light 
for  human  kindness. 

For  two  weeks  muffins  rose  with  the  un 
blemished  strength  of  a  Southern  California 
sun. 

The  mistress  of  Temple  Hill  had  quite  per 
suaded  herself  to  accept  her  despoiled  Celes 
tial  cook  with  the  true  missionary  spirit  of 
Lent.  She  could  not,  however,  regard  a 
queueless  Chinaman  agsthetically ;  time  alone 
must  decide  the  virtue  of  Chang's  recent  sac 
rifice.  As  yet  he  did  not  boast  of  a  neat,  de 
fined  part  above  his  golden  brow.  The  ruth 
less  sway  of  the  long  prescribed  razor  still 
held;  coarse  black  sprouts  were  only  remote 
promises  of  a  much  desired  crop.  The  moth- 
eaten  effect  at  the  top  of  the  heathen 's  head  was 
certainly  depressing.  Chang's  clear-cut  per 
spective  had  vanished. 


82         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

But  as  heretofore,  his  white  house  garments 
remained  spotless.  When  he  shot  forth  Sun 
day  afternoons  on  his  bicycle,  clad  in  store 
clothes,  a  derby  hat  resting  against  his  ears, 
the  mistress  of  the  Hill  closed  her  eyes  and 
was  spared  the  elaborate  details  of  a  pink 
shirt,  purple  necktie  and  gaudy  watch  chain. 
She  now  accepted  Chang's  holiday  costume  as 
her  chief  Lenten  sacrifice. 

Indeed,  she  was  beginning  to  feel  quite  like 
a  saint,  ready  to  crucify  a  too  critical  taste  in 
the  interest  of  reform,  when  one  morning 
what  she  had  most  dreaded  happened.  Even 
before  the  embarrassed  heathen  finished  a  pro 
fuse  but  halting  valedictory,  she  knew  the 
worst — he  was  going  to  leave! 

As  she  feared,  the  severed  queue  had  worked 
an  evil  charm;  her  heathen  was  threatened 
with  the  first  symptoms  of  American  "big 
head."  Inflamed  by  the  "Bow  Wong  Woy," 
the  reformer  dreamed  of  wealth.  She  under 
stood  the  situation  at  once. 

"Surely  you  are  not  going  away?"  she 
asked  with  imposed  calm. 

"I  velly  solly,"  Chang  stammered,  "I  velly 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES      83 

solly — but  my  bludder — my  bludder — lie  say  I 
come  San  Berdoo — make  lot  money — work 
hoteL"  The  lady  was  provokingly  speech 
less. 

Chang  hesitated — then  plunged  on. 

"My  bludder — he  make  contract — take  hotel 
klitchen.  He  say  I  come  San  Berdoo — my 
cousin  come — all  three  work  togedder — make 
big  money." 

"But,"  said  the  lady,  with  chilling  decision, 
"you  know  absolutely  nothing  about  business. 
The  hotel  men  at  San  Bernardino  will  cheat 
you.  Your  brother,  you  have  already  told  me, 
is  stupid— not  interested  in  new  ways — knows 
only  about  his  range  and  getting  a  good  din 
ner.  As  sure  as  you  risk  your  savings  in  a 
foolish  contract,  you  will  lose  every  cent  that 
you  have  been  putting  by  in  the  bank."  She 
clinched  her  points  with  an  impressive  frown. 

For  a  moment  Chang  appeared  stunned  by 
the  possibilities  presented;  then  his  expression 
intensified.  Dogged  importance  thrilled  his 
voice.  He  spread  his  hands  conceitedly. 

"You  see — jus'  like  this:  I  have  family 
back  China — must  get  money  quick — all  same 


84        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

'Melican  man.  Some  day  I  go  back  my  clun- 
try;  then  maybe  I  stay  there  all  time.  I  not 
like  that,  more  better  live  these  United  States. 
China  too  slow,  too  dark.  I  not  care  I  never 
go  back  China  any  more — but  that  no  can  be. 
My  f adder,  my  mudder,  my  wife,  my  little  boy 
— all  there.  All  velly  poor — write  every 
month — money !  money !  money !  I  must  make 
those  plunk  fast.  When  I  go  home  nex'  time, 
I  'flaid  United  States  not  let  me  come  back. 
I  velly  solly  be  treat  that  way.  I  do  my  best 
— work  hard — no  steal — no  hurt  any  man; 
jus'  send  little  money  my  old  f  adder,  my  old 
mudder,  my  wife,  my  son.  I  think  Chinaman 
all  same  God 's  creature  $ ' '  The  lady  assented. 
"Some  Chinamen  heap  good,  heap  kind.  I 
see  lot  bad  'Melican  man,  lot  bad  Mexican  man, 
lot  bad  Nigger,  lot  bad  Italian  man,  down  Los 
Angeles;  bad  Chinamen  too — no  worse — jus' 
all  same.  All  get  dlunk,  all  flight,  all  get  al- 
lest — all  go  to  hell  sure." 

"But,"  said  the  bewildered  lady,  "I  don't 
quite  see  how  I  can  let  you  leave  me ;  you  have 
been  with  us  so  long.  You  had  better  think 
seriously  before  you  give  up  a  good  place  and 


QUEUE   OF   CENTURIES      85 

run  the  risk  of  losing  your  money  in  a  foolish, 
uncertain  venture." 

There  was  no  visible  weakening  in  the  Celes- 
tial's  aspect. 

"Yes,  I  understand,"  Chang  began  once 
more.  "You  velly  kind — velly  high  tone.  I 
like  you  husbland — I  velly  solly  I  go  'way. 
Flaps  I  get  bust — dead  bloke — I  hope  not. 
All  same  I  think  I  try  make  money  quick,  'fore 
I  live  all  time  back  old  China — not  be  let  come 
these  United  States.  P'l'aps  Plesident  be 
kind  after  Vhile;  p'l'aps  he  tell  he  cluntry  let 
China  get  light  all  same  Japan.  Maybe  he 
say  let  good  Chinamen  come  these  United 
States — work  hard — spend  wages  all  same  any 
man.  Len  maybe  I  come  back  this  good  land 
— work  your  family  once  more.  I  hope  Plesi 
dent  do  that  way.  Jesus  Christ  say — all  be 
kind  unto-one-a-nudder.  Jesus  Christ  be  poor 
he  self ;  He  know  that  not  nice ;  He  say  every 
workman  may  take  own  wages — do  what  he 
like." 

A  theological  discussion  was  not  in  line  with 
the  lady's  thoughts.  She  frowned  absently 
and  returned  to  the  point  in  question. 


86         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"Then  you  have  decided  to  leave  me?" 

"I  velly  solly;  but  I  go  try  that  hotel  down 
San  Berdoo.  Maybe  I  not  stay;  maybe  I  get 
bust.  Len  I  come  back." 

"But  think  how  little  you  know  of  real  busi 
ness,"  she  warned  for  the  last  time. 

The  answer  came  calm  and  dogged:  "I 
learn." 

"I  the  most  sensiblest  fellow  you  ever  see," 
Chang  went  on;  "I  look  out  sharp.  That  Re 
form  Party  tell  us  not  be  scare ;  jus'  get  knowl 
edge  all  same  Japanese.  Chinaman  have  good 
head,  jus'  be  little  'flaid — do  all  way  all  same 
fadder — grandfadder — far,  far  back.  Now 
Reform  Party  wake  that  Chinese  nation  up — 
say  get  move  on — be  men  all  same  Japs.  Ling 
Chi  Choo  tell  us  learn  war ;  shoot  gun — not  let 
big  Russia  steal  that  Manchuria.  Some  day 
we  get  smart — be  same  United  States — take  no 
sass !  China  be  Republic ! ' ' 

She  felt  the  futility  of  advice.  "I  am  sorry 
that  you  are  determined  to  leave  me,"  she  ac 
knowledged  frankly. 

"Yes — I  velly  solly  too.    I  find  you  'nudder 


good  China  boy.  Maybe  lie  come  to-morrow — 
len  I  go." 

"I  do  not  think  that  I  shall  employ  a  Chinese 
cook  at  present.  I  have  about  decided  to  try 
a  girl  in  my  kitchen,"  the  lady  answered. 
"As  you  are  anxious  to  get  away,  I  can  doubt 
less  arrange  to  let  you  go  very  soon."  Her 
spunk  was  up,  but  her  heart  was  heavy. 

"Thank  you,"  the  would-be  Reformer  fal 
tered,  turning  slowly  on  his  noiseless  Chinese 
shoes.  She  watched  him  walk  away,  knowing 
full  well  the  conflict  on  hand  for  the  next  few 
days.  A  similar  struggle  had  always  ensued 
at  the  rear  whenever  Chang  contemplated  a 
trip  to  China.  As  heretofore,  the  heathen  was 
certain  to  leave  an  impressive  object  lesson  for 
his  successor,  who  would  have  no  vital  excuse 
for  a  slack  career.  And  the  last  dinner! 
What  a  "swan  song"!  How  melting  to  the 
palate  it  would  be!  yet  as  truly  melancholy 
as  the  last  public  appearance  of  a  great  artist. 

Her  threatened  bereavement  stood  out 
theatrically.  The  Celestial's  departure  was 
so  unlooked-for — such  a  shock — and  at  bottom 


88         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

only  the  natural  result  of  an  un-Christian  law. 
The  "Exclusion  Act"  alone  was  responsible 
for  present  trouble. 

When  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  met  her  hus 
band  at  the  usual  hour,  she  ran  to  meet  him 
with  flashing  eyes  and  flaming  cheeks.  " Isn't 
it  a  shame,"  she  cried,  "a  perfect  shame! 
Chang's  going  to  leave  us." 

' '  The  deuce ! "  he  e j  aculated.  ' '  Who 's  fault 
is  it?" 

"Simply  the  fault  of  the  Exclusion  Act," 
she  answered.  * '  The  Chinese  Reform  Party  is 
but  another  name  for  'the  awakening  of  the 
Dragon,'  and  at  last  the  patient  heathen  has 
been  counseled  to  make  hay  while  the  sun 
shines." 

"I  see  that  you  have  the  Celestial  platform 
pat,"  he  told  her,  with  an  exasperating  interest 
in  his  fresh  cigar.  She  wished  him  to  be 
miserable  like  herself. 

"Ideal  life  for  this  coast  is  over!"  she 
wailed.  "You  really  cannot  understand — as 
a  mere  man — what  Chang's  departure  means." 

"Perhaps  he  may  not  go,"  he  encour 
aged. 


QUEUE  OF   CENTURIES     89 

"Yes  he  will,"  she  held  out;  "and  I  have 
known  all  along  exactly  what  would  happen. 
In  a  short  time  we  shall  be  just  as  miserable 
over  help  in  this  part  of  the  country  as  our 
friends  are  in  the  East.  It  isn't  fair  that  an 
incompetent  class  who  are  simply  dogs  in  the 
manger  should  be  allowed  to  ruin  the  future 
of  a  great,  grand  State  like  California." 

Her  vehemence  amused  her  husband. 

"The  present  administration  may  see  fit  to 
modify  the  law.  The  State  Department  is 
doctoring  it, ' '  he  reflected.  *  *  But  a  premature 
treaty  will  doubtless  have  to  be  put  into  an  in 
cubator,"  he  went  on  to  explain. 

"Meantime,"  his  wife  broke  in,  "Chang's 
going  to  San  Bernardino  to  work  in  a  hotel 
kitchen.  What  good  will  a  change  in  the  law 
do  us,  when  once  we  have  lost  our  cook?" 
Candid  selfishness  intensified  her  voice.  "We 
simply  cannot  get  along  on  the  Coast  without 
Chinamen." 

"Why  not  write  to  the  President  and  ex 
plain  the  situation?" 

"I  should  like  to,"  she  agreed  warmly.  "I 
do  not  suppose  he  would  ever  see  my  letter; 


90        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

but  if  I  might  only  talk  with  him,  I  feel  posi 
tive  that  I  could  get  in  some  good  work." 

"I  dare  say,'7  said  her  husband.  "Then,  if 
you  arranged  to  have  His  Excellency  eat  one 
of  Chang's  good  dinners,  the  Exclusion  Act 
might  be  readily  modified." 

"You  need  not  scoff,"  she  reproved.  "I 
am  very  much  in  earnest  over  the  whole  mat 
ter.  And  if  women  do  not  understand  the 
values  of  those  who  serve  in  the  household, 
who  does?  You  knew  very  well,"  she  went 
on,  "that  all  of  this  Reform  Party  business — 
this  cutting  off:  of  queues,  this  greed  for  money, 
for  military  knowledge — is  simply  the  direct 
result  of  the  Exclusion  Act.  The  once  be 
nighted  heathen  has  at  last  waked  up  to  the 
question  of  fair  play!" 

'  *  True, ' '  said  the  master.  ' '  In  other  words, 
you  think  that  missionary  spirit  should  be 
gin  on  Christian  soil;  that  if  well-meaning 
Celestials  cannot  be  trusted  to  become  'yellow 
angels'  on  this  side  of  the  Pacific,  they  might 
naturally  doubt  the  efficacy  of  virtue  sent  out 
to  the  Flowery  Kingdom  in  the  form  of  tracts 
and  testaments?" 


QUEUE   OF   CENTURIES     91 

"Exactly!  And  some  day,  if  there  is  no 
modification  of  the  restriction  act,  this  Coast 
will  find  out  its  mistake." 

"Meanwhile,"  he  interpolated,  "we  are  to 
lose  old  Chang ;  probably  suffer  from  dyspep 
sia,  from  now  on." 

"Of  course;  in  Lent,  too,  when  one  is  living 
frugally  and  needs  the  best  of  cooking.  I  feel 
ill  already." 

"You  do  look  pale,"  her  husband  agreed. 
' t  But  when  is  Chang  going  ?  Possibly  I  might 
assist  him  to  a  change  of  heart." 

"No,"  she  answered,  "you  can  do  nothing 
with  him  ;•  he  is  as  stubborn  as  a  mule.  Our 
only  hope  of  getting  him  back  hangs  on  his 
losing  Ms  money.  If  he  goes  'dead  bloke'  we 
may  yet  count  on  him." 

"Poor  old  chuck!  I  could  never  wish  him 
hard  luck,  even  for  selfish  reasons,"  the  master 
confessed  with  sudden  feeling. 

"Nor  I,"  she  owned.  "Our  best  plan  is  to 
make  his  departure  as  memorable  and  impres 
sive  as  possible ;  then  if  things  go  badly  in  the 
hotel  kitchen,  he  may  think  regretfully  of  his 
home  on  Temple  Hill." 


92         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"You  little  wire  puller!  Of  course  you 
could  work  the  President." 

Meantime  Chang  pursued  his  relentless  la 
bors  at  the  rear.  On  the  eve  before  the  hegira 
everything  was  in  readiness.  Loaves  of  sweet- 
smelling  bread  and  rolls  stood  in  rows  on  the 
pantry  table;  cakes  and  dainties  awaited  the 
powerless  criticism  of  a  new  cook.  All  was 
clean  and  shining,  from  range  to  sink ;  nothing 
had  been  forgotten. 

Then  early  next  morning  the  mistress  of  the 
Hill  saw  an  express  wagon  back  up  with  the 
finality  of  a  hearse  close  to  her  Celestial's  tiny 
house.  The  Yellow  Angel  was  flying!  At 
last,  his  treasured  bicycle  and  less  impressive 
appointments  of  earlier,  benighted  years  were 
piled  high.  The  "swan  song"  breakfast  was 
over ;  the  departure  at  hand.  Everything  had 
been  put  away  neatly;  the  doves,  the  hounds, 
the  chickens  fed.  For  the  reformer,  one  only 
remaining  duty  was  a  formal  brisk  farewell. 
Now  on  a  new  horizon  loomed  the  hotel  kitchen 
of  "San  Berdoo." 

"How  you  think  I  look?"  Chang  ventured, 
when  at  length  he  emerged  from  his  little 


QUEUE   OF   CENTURIES      93 

house  for  the  last  time  and  stood  half  -sheep 
ishly  bf ore  the  assembled  family.  The  express 
wagon  had  rattled  away  to  the  depot;  but  on 
a  day  such  as  this  it  was  not  to  be  expected 
that  a  reformer  should  surmount  his  chattels. 

"How  you  think  I  look?"  he  repeated,  sus 
picious  of  a  smiling  silence. 

"Tip  top,"  said  the  master  with  an  effort  to 
deny  prevailing  prejudice.  "You  are  im 
mense — just  immense!"  He  shook  the 
freshly  gloved  hand  of  the  passing,  elaborate 
heathen. 

"I  think  I  look  nice — all  same  any  man," 
Chang  acknowledged  frankly. 

Pride  sat  upon  his  brow,  while  he  dexter 
ously  shuffled  with  one  hand  a  cheap,  dress- 
suit  case  and  a  slim  umbrella. 

"I  most  solly  I  leave  this  good  place,"  he 
broke  forth,  for  suddenly  departure  had  be 
come  complicated.  All  at  once  poor  Chang  did 
not  know  how  to  get  away ;  was  uncertain  as  to 
what  might  be  expected  of  a  Celestial  in  store 
clothes.  The  pink  shirt  and  stick-pin  made 
Mm  self-conscious.  His  rosy  plot  for  quick 
riches  seemed  to  darken,  the  hotel  kitchen  to 


94         THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

San  Bernardino  to  turn  blue  with  potential 
smoke. 

' '  I  velly  solly  I  go, ' '  he  burst  out.  * '  You  all 
be  velly  good  to  me.  So  nice,  so  high-tone. 
You  treat  me  square — little  fellow  my  good 
flend;  Jane  nice  girl — not  care  I  be  China 


man.' 


He  shook  in  quick  succession  extended 
hands,  then  turned  away  to  hide  unbecoming 
emotion. 

The  family  watched  him  trudge  down  the 
rose  path.  There  was  tragedy  in  his  haste. 
Fog,  banked  above  the  crests  of  the  mountains, 
seemed  to  betoken  doubt,  and  Chang's  stubby 
retreating  figure  no  longer  took  on  the  arro 
gant  swing  of  the  reformer.  He  was  leaving 
his  home — the  only  one  he  had  ever  known 
outside  of  far  old  China. 

It  were  best  to  draw  a  veil  before  the  next 
three  weeks.  Suffice  that  the  mistress  of 
Temple  Hill  pronounced  her  Lenten  season  a 
complete  failure.  The  batteries  of  Christian 
warfare  had  been  silenced  by  perpetual  tem 
poral  attacts  from  the  rear  of  the  house.  The 
lady  seemed  to  be  only  in  communion  with  her 


QUEUE   OF   CENTURIES     95 

kitchen;  in  unwilling  touch  with  carnal  mat 
ters. 

By  the  beginning  of  Holy  Week  she  was 
nervously  reduced  to  the  pose  of  a  penitent. 
She  could  control  herself  no  longer,  and  at  last 
tears  flowed  freely — she  could  not  rise  above 
her  woes. 

"Things  might  be  worse, "  her  philosophical 
spouse  cajoled.  "The  family  have  kept  well 
through  it  all.  The  house  has  not  burned 
down.  We  have  several  tumblers  and  a  few 
plates  left  in  the  china  closet.  Our  '  Queen  of 
the  Netherlands'  has  had  only  three  tantrums 
and  two -toothaches.  After  all,  I  think  you 
might  cheer  up.  Do  stop  weeping;  someone 
might  drop  in." 

"No  one  will  come,"  she  sobbed.  "Have 
you  forgotten?  It's  Holy  Week." 

"So  it  is,"  he  answered. 

"No  wonder  we  should  both  lose  track  of  the 
church  calendar,"  she  lamented.  "Our  Lent 
has  been  absolute  purgatory." 

"But  think  of  the  great  penance  we  have 
both  performed." 

She  ignored  the  thrust. 


96        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"I  thought  I  should  be  down  with  a  sickness 
at  the  end  of  the  first  week,  after  Chang  left 
us,"  she  went  on.  "I  know  I  was  called  into 
the  kitchen  a  thousand  times.  When  I  was 
not  showing  that  unreasonable  girl  where 
things  were  kept,  I  was  explaining  the  simplest 
details  of  existence.  Then  she  was  always  tap 
ping  on  my  bedroom  door.  How  did  I  like 
potatoes — mashed  or  cooked  in  cream?  Did 
we  have  our  steak  rare  or  well  done  ?  Where 
did  I  keep  the  tea  caddy  ?  Was  our  coffee  to 
be  weak  or  strong?" 

"Well,"  said  her  husband,  "I  can  see  no 
harm  in  the  questions." 

"Harm!"  she  exclaimed;  "it  is  not  a  matter 
of  ethics,  simply  of  common  sense.  I  suppose 
all  family  cooks  the  world  over,  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Orientals,  ask  for  details ;  but  who  ever 
heard  of  a  Chinaman  boring  his  mistress  about 
trifles?  Why,  a  first-class  Celestial  simply 
finds  out  for  himself  how  one  likes  things  and 
where  they  are  kept.  For  the  first  thirty-six 
hours  in  a  new  place  he  watches  like  a  hawk 
— after  that  he  understands  the  personal 
tastes  of  his  household.  I'm  just  tired  to 


think  I  look?" 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES     97 

death  looking  after  a  cook's  backbone;  my 
own  aches  most  of  the  time  now.  I  suppose  it 
sounds  selfish,  but  I  had  forgotten  that  cooks 
have  spines;  Chang  never  complained  of  his, 
and  I  have  been  used  to  having  all  the  neu 
ralgia  and  bad  feelings  myself. ' ' 

"A  sort  of  vicarious  arrangement,"  sug 
gested  the  husband. 

"I  should  not  feel  so  distressed,"  she  went 
on, "  if  it  were  not  for  my  ruined  Lent.  I  have 
indeed  been  a  miserable  sinner  throughout;  I 
have  not  gained  a  particle  of  spiritual  benefit. 
Now  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  give  up  all 
thought  of  an  Easter  hat,  and  put  the  money 
on  the  collection  plate  instead.  I  must  do 
something  to  get  straight  with  my  conscience," 
she  sighed  regretfully. 

"I  have  been  doing  pretty  well  lately,"  the 
man  acknowledged.  "You  had  better  get  the 
bonnet." 

"Perhaps  I  might  give  up  something  else," 
she  agreed;  then  visibly  brightened.  "I  know 
what  I  can  do — dispense  with  our  usual  Easter 
dinner  party !  There  is  simply  no  use  trying 
to  have  one,  with  this  cook — she  is  hopeless. 


98        THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

It  is  not  that  she  cooks  so  badly,  but  the  fact 
that  she  has  no  head  makes  having  company  a 
nightmare.  "We  shall  just  have  to  put  our 
friends  off  this  time;  and  the  bishop  and  his 
wife,  and  the  others  must  be  told  at  once.  It 
is  too  bad,  for,  as  you  know,  we  have  had  the 
same  company  each  Easter  for  years — ever 
since  the  christening  of  the  first  grandson. 
Then  perhaps  you  may  have  failed  to  remem 
ber  my  birthday  is  on  Easter  day?  It  seems 
too  bad  that  I  cannot  have  a  party,  so  to  speak, 
with  a  cake  and  candles  to  show  that  I  have 
put  away  childish  things." 

"Are  you  certain  that  you  would  not  try  to 
prove  an  alibi  if  I  bought  the  cake  and  lighted 
all  the  candles  ?"  he  asked. 

"Well,  there  will  be  no  celebration, "  she  de 
clared.  "If  Chang  were  here  I  should  be 
obliged  to  accept  the  allegation.  He  con 
scientiously  remembered  the  dates  of  all  our 
birthdays;  my  cake  would  be  sure  to  have  a 
correct  decoration."  She  whirled  in  a  revolv 
ing  desk  chair  and  sighed — almost  into  the 
mouth  of  the  calling  telephone. 

"Yes,"  she  answered,  placing  the  receiver 


QUEUE  OP  CENTURIES     99 

to  her  ear.  "Who  is  it  you  wish  to  speak 
with?  Oh,  I  see,  Kim — Mrs.  Brown's  cook — 
a  friend  of  Chang's!" 

Her  voice  had  risen  to  a  keener  pitch. 

"Chang's  going  to  leave  the  hotel!  You 
don't  mean  it?  Would  I  like  him  to  come 
back  to  me?  I  should  say  so.  We  all  told 
him  not  to  go  to  San  Bernardino — I  was  sure 
he  would  not  be  happy  there." 

The  receiver  trembled  joyously.  The  hus 
band  heard  a  weird  vibration  of  Kim  Lee's 
voice  in  the  current;  the  "chink"  was  strug 
gling  nobly  to  explain  the  situation.  Momen 
tary  suspense  was  trying ;  then  the  mistress  of 
Temple  Hill  again  took  up  the  theme. 

"Of  course  we  want  him  back.  You  think 
he  is  ashamed  to  come  without  an  invitation  ? 
Well,  I  shall  write  to  him  at  once.  I'll  send 
the  letter  over  to  you.  You  can  post  it  to 
night  and  he'll  get  it  to-morrow.  Thank  you 
very  much  for  thinking  of  the  plan.  Yes,  yes 
— I  see — as  you  say,  it  is  much  better  for  you 
to  direct  the  envelope." 

She  laughed  gleefully.  "They  might  notice 
my  writing  at  the  hotel?  Yes — I  see — -they 


100      THE  YELLOW,  ANGEL 

might  forget  to  give  Chang  the  letter.  Thank 
you  again — I  shall  write  the  note  at  once." 
She  sprang  from  her  perch  in  triumph. 

"He's  coming  back!  Chang's  coming 
back!"  she  cried.  "He  hates  the  hotel,  and 
the  waiter  girls  make  fun  of  his  ridiculous 
clothes.  Isn't  it  grand  to  think  that  perhaps 
we  may  have  a  happy  Easter,  after  all?" 

Suddenly  remembering  the  promised  letter, 
she  grew  serious. 

"I  must  write  decidedly,  but  kindly — don't 
you  think  so?"  she  asked  with  amusing  assur 
ance.  Already  she  had  decided  upon  the  form 
of  her  epistle,  and  the  man  wisely  withheld  ad 
vice.  But  several  days  elapsed  without  an 
answer  from  Chang;  then  one  evening  Kim 
Lee  announced  through  the  telephone  that  the 
Yellow  Angel  had  arrived  in  Los  Angeles. 

"Chang  down  Chinatown,"  he  explained. 
"He  stay  his  cousin  store — Hop  Bow — 425 
Apablas  Street.  Better  go  down  see  him. 
Chang  say  he  heap  'shamed,  come  back  so  soon. 
He  say  maybe  you  not  want  him  velly  bad. 
I  think  your  husband  better  go  down  China 
town,  bling  Chang  home."  It  sounded  like  a 


QUEUE  OF  CENTURIES    101 

fairy  tale,  too  good  to  be  true.  The  trans 
mitted  voice  of  Kim  Lee  had  become  a  sacred 
oracle.  The  shrine  at  Delphi  never  gave  up  a 
more  important  secret.  The  mistress  of  the 
Hill  flew  to  the  master's  arms;  then  straight 
way  drove  him  forth  with  the  impetus  of  mu 
tual  purpose.  Chang,  the  crestfallen  Re 
former,  was  coming.  Half -reluctantly,  half- 
gladly,  she  knew,  somewhat  saddened — yet — 
withal,  considerably  wiser.  She  saw  him  at 
last  dimly  defined  on  the  rose-path;  kindly 
darkness  and  his  little  house  hid  the  anguish 
of  his  downfall.  Presumably,  he  hung  his 
elegant  store  clothes  on  long  familiar  pegs ; 
then  crept  silently  to  bed.  However,  the  bit 
terness  of  his  ignominious  hour  is  left  to  the 
imagination. 

But  next  morning,  Chang  would  come  early 
to  his  kitchen — as  usual;  and  the  master  and 
mistress  of  the  Hill  would  hear  again  the  so 
norous  call  of  a  temple  gong.  Once  more  the 
heathen  would  awaken  rich  vibrations  from 
answering  metal,  while  their  ear-drums  were 
to  be  no  longer  tortured  with  profane  bom 
bardment  at  dawn. 


102       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

The  trying  interval  of  past  weeks  was  over ; 
life  might  move  on.  The  mighty  were  fallen ! 
Yet  just  how  badly,  the  mistress  took  pains  not 
to  discover,  when  she  greeted  a  humbled  and 
perceptibly  cast-down  Reformer  in  the  break 
fast-room.  She  made  not  the  slightest  refer 
ence  to  shattered  hopes  or  a  wise  return  to 
simple  life.  t  *  San  Berdoo ' '  was  as  effectually 
buried  as  Pompeii  after  the  first  eruption  of 
Vesuvius.  She  knew  that  as  hours  passed 
Chang  would  rebound  from  natural  humilia 
tion.  The  exigencies  of  an  approaching 
Easter  dinner  would  bring  him  through;  and 
once  installed  at  work,  the  appealing  qualities 
of  flour  and  fresh  eggs  would  conquer  dejec 
tion. 

She  was  correct.  Chang  was  soon  humming 
"Onward,  Christian  Soldiers "  at  the  rear  of 
the  house.  Very  softly  he  sang  at  first — but 
stronger  and  more  hopefully  as  time  went  by. 
On  the  Saturday  before  Easter,  his  favorite 
refrain  rose  to  the  kitchen  rafters  with  un 
qualified  unction.  The  Yellow  Angel  wras 
again  happy ;  once  more  in  his  proper  element, 
with  the  best  of  everything  at  hand.  His  re- 


QUEUE   OF   CENTURIES    103 

bounding  heart  was  full,  and  lie  could  no  longer 
resist  a  fling  at  the  culinary  department  of 
the  San  Bernardino  hotel. 

"That  old  kitchen  up  San  Berdoo  heap  hoi- 
lid!"  he  declared,  with  a  smiling  survey  of  his 
present  environment.  "I  not  stay — they  give 
me  one  thousand  dollar!  Heap  dark,  so  hot, 
everything  velly  poor.  Rotten  egg,  heap  old 
flour,  nothing  good.  I  gless  more  better  I 
come  back  this  place,"  he  went  on  glibly. 
"Those  waiter  girls  heap  mean,  bad,  hollid — 
Jane  no  be  that  way.  I  glad  I  get  home  plenty 
time  make  your  birthday. ' ' 

The  mistress  smiled  an  acknowledgment 
and  Chang  broke  out  afresh.  "I  glad  that 
bishop — all  same  St.  Paul — come  take  dinner. 
I  like  that  bishop ;  he  heap  lovely,  good,  kind. 
He  say  my  cooking  best  this  town.  This  time 
I  give  him  hot  stuff,  sure !" 

The  mistress  of  the  Hill  felt  that  the  prom 
ise  would  be  kept. 

When  the  glad  day  dawned,  she  went  to  serv 
ice  with  a  free  heart,  knowing  full  well  that 
the  Yellow  Angel's  Easter  dinner  would  be 
come  a  tradition  in  the  family.  Still  she  was 


104       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

unprepared  for  a  last  important  course  which 
marked  the  climax  of  Chang's  art.  Only  the 
master  perceived  an  opportunity,  while  with 
due  reverence  he  commanded  his  guests  to 
turn  to  the  East.  For  in  relief  to  a  dossel  of 
wall  tapestry,  stood  the  Yellow  Angel,  bearing 
on  high  an  impressive  birthday  cake,  aglow 
with  candles.  His  white  garments  were  spot 
less  as  a  priest's,  and  his  hair  now  grown  and 
trimmed  with  a  view  to  perspective,  made  his 
restoration  perfect.  Murmurs  of  applause 
broke  from  the  company  as  he  came  slowly  for 
ward  to  place  his  offering  before  the  mistress 
with  childlike  pride. 

Then  she  found  fresh  cause  for  surprise; 
for  laboriously  inscribed  on  the  cake  were 
sugared  words.  Encircled  by  roses,  wrought 
with  consummate  art,  she  read  aloud,  "God 
Bless  Temple  Hill." 

"Amen!"  said  the  master. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  LION   AND   THE  LAMB 

THE  mistress  of  Temple  Hill  had  sup 
posed  that  Sue  Chang  would  enjoy  his 
midwinter  outing  as  usual;  make  merry  with 
friends,  and  feast  on  little  roasted  pigs 
browned  to  a  rich  mahogany.  She  was  sur 
prised  when  he  announced  his  intention  to  re 
main  at  home  during  the  festive  season  of 
Chinese  New  Year. 

"What  has  happened?"  she  asked.  "Why 
do  you  not  celebrate?" 

Sue  Chang  shook  a  queueless  head;  he  was 
now  an  advanced  heathen,  each  day  less  bound 
by  universal  customs  of  his  fatherland.  After 
years  in  the  United  States  he  thought  for  him 
self,  shaping  his  course  of  action  in  direct  op 
position  to  senseless  traditions  and  ways  of 
departed,  worm-eaten  ancestors. 

105 


106       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

"I  stay  home — all  same  Pat,"  he  persisted. 
He  pointed  to  the  Irish  gardener  who  sat  op 
posite  at  the  kitchen  table.  The  bond  ex 
isting  between  these  two  was  a  puzzle.  This 
evening  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  regarded  the 
unusual  friendship  with  fresh  interest.  Like 
a  compromise  to  possible  national  prejudice, 
a  platter  filled  with  steaming  rice  and  "  pra 
ties"  stood,  as  it  were,  between  attacking 
forces.  The  mistress  smiled.  Pat  Ryan  and 
Sue  Chang  dining  together  moved  her  to  psy 
chological  research.  At  first  she  had  been 
alarmed  over  the  strange  intimacy;  when  it 
continued,  she  sought  for  its  cause,  like  a  wise 
woman.  Soon  all  was  plain.  In  Ireland  Pat 
had  a  mother-in-law,  a  wife,  and  two  children ; 
while  in  far-away  China  dwelt  Sue  Chang's 
lily-footed  spouse,  his  first-born  son  and  a 
mother-in-law,  often  unduly  troublesome. 
Domestic  friction,  together  with  mutual  deso 
lation,  had  riveted  the  peculiar  bond,  which 
seemed  to  strengthen  with  each  fresh  oppor 
tunity. 

Then  one  day,  when  the  edict  from  the  Chin 
ese  Reform  Party  took  off  Sue  Chang's  queue 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LAMB    107 

and  sent  him  forth  on  Sunday  afternoons  in 
ugly,  ill-fitting  American  store  clothes,  the 
Irishman's  devotion  took  on  the  form  of  open, 
easy  comradeship.  There  was  no  suggestion 
of  patronage  in  the  Hibernian's  manner  as  he 
accompanied  the  embarrassed  Celestial  down 
the  rose  walk  in  full  view  of  the  assembled 
household.  The  opportunity  was  indeed  a 
rare  one  for  favored  observers.  Pat's  tawny 
suit  of  khaki,  harmonizing  with  the  blond 
hairiness  of  his  pale,  pinched-out  visage,  sug 
gested  the  friendly  lion  in  charge  of  a  newly 
shorn  lamb.  To  onlookers  the  millennium  ap 
peared  to  be  at  hand,  the  full  possibility  of  the 
prophet's  wildest  dream  realized.  There  was 
not  the  faintest  doubt  about  the  mild  relations 
pertaining  on  the  rose  path.  The  spirit  of 
Confucius  seemed  to  be  communing  at  last 
with  that  of  St.  Peter — with  all  the  Popes  of 
ages. 

However,  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  was  con 
founded  by  her  Celestial's  direct  abjuration 
of  heathen  abominations.  She  smiled  in 
credulously  when  he  again  declared  that  he 
would  remain  quietly  at  home  during  the  lively 


108       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

season  of  Chinese  New  Year.  With  a 
woman's  perversity,  she  tempted. 

"Not  going  to  the  city  to-morrow — not  going 
to  leave  your  pretty  cards  for  friends  in  the 
Quarter ?"  she  asked  once  more.  "And  the 
great  wedding  of  Lee  Hop  Chow — I  should 
think  you  would  like  to  take  part  in  the  merry 
making.  The  papers  say  the  streets  of  China 
town  will  never  be  gayer ;  three  whole  days  of 
feasting  and  joy!" 

Sue  Chang  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"Lee  Hop  Chow  not  my  fiend!"  he  denied 
contemptuously.  "I  go  that  ledding — not  be 
invite;  not  know  that  sign — hand  high  up  in 
air — they  kill  me  sure.  You  not  know  that 
Lee  Hop  Chow;  he  all  same  Boxer!  Papers 
say  he  big  Free  Mason  same  United  States 
man ;  that  just  big  lie.  No.  I  not  go  Los  An 
geles  this  China  New  Year."  He  shook  his 
freshly  cropped  head  with  the  dogged  force  of 
the  reformer.  "You  see — this  way — I  mar 
ried  man,  all  same  Pat."  The  lady  smiled 
questioningly.  Chang  went  on.  "Pat  work 
hard,  send  every  cent  back  home — get  children 
educate.  I  like  do  that  way,  too.  I  think  Pat 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LAMB    109 

more  sensible.  I  be  sensible  myself.  I  not 
fool  money  go  that  Los  Angeles.  I  stay  home 
— get  dinner  all  same  any  day.  Back  China 
my  little  son  velly  smart.  I  give  him  fine  edu 
cate — save  my  plunk  so  he  be  big  man;  show 
his  old  cluntry  many  new  thing — how  to  get 


move  on. ' 


"I  see,"  said  the  mistress.  Chang  smiled; 
then  his  amber  brow  gathered  anxiety. 

"Plitty  hard  time  now  for  poor  old  China. 
She  like  wake  up  all  same  Japan !  then  United 
States — go  take  run!  keep  'way  ten  thousand 
mile!  I  think  United  States  not  velly  good 
Clistian  after  all." 

"But,  you  see,"  the  lady  excused,  "the  best 
and  kindest  of  our  land  are  not  to  blame  for 
injustice  heaped  upon  your  nation.  The  Ex 
clusion  Act  has  been  both  passed  and  abused 
by  politicians  who  are  not,  as  we  say,  the  voice 
of  the  people." 

"I  understand,"  said  Chang.  "I  ;  velly 
solly, ' '  he  went  on ;  "  I  heap  solly  China  so  mad. 
You  see  this?"  He  held  up  a  Chinese  maga 
zine  printed  in  San  Francisco.  "You  no  can 
read  so  funny  letters !  Pat  laugh,  too ;  he  say 


110       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

old  hen  run  over  page.  I  tell  him  listen  to 
me.  Len  I  read  'bout  that  boycott  back  China 
— all  so  mad!  heap  clazy."  Chang  laughed 
good-naturedly.  "No,  I  not  go  spend  money 
down  Los  Angeles.  I  save  up,  get  my  little 
son  educate,  so  he  be  big  man  back  home. 
After  while  China  get  stlong;  not  yet  can  do 
like  Japan — plitty  soon  China  know  more,  not 
be  insult." 

In  deference  to  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
Pat  had  remained  standing,  and  mute. 
Chang's  childlike  freedom  in  addressing  a  su 
perior  surprised  him.  As  yet  Old  Country 
bog  was  fresh  on  his  boots. 

As  the  lady  turned  to  go,  for  the  first  time 
she  noticed  the  Irishman's  pinching  features. 
The  man  had  always  impressed  her  as  deli 
cate;  but  to-night  his  drawn  face  looked  out 
scared  and  ashen  through  a  jungle  of  tawny 
hair  and  whiskers.  Green-gray  eyes  implored 
her. 

"I  do  be  lavin'  the  place  fur  the  horspital," 
Pat  faltered  hopelessly.  "They  do  be  cuttin' 
me  up  in  a  few  days."  He  sank  his  furry 
head  into  his  hands. 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB    111 

"What  is  the  matter?"  the  lady  questioned. 

"I  do  be  twisted  up  inside,"  he  explained. 
"The  doctors  will  be  after  givin'  me  chloro 
form  to  straighten  me  out.  And  I'm  not  ex- 
pectin'  to  pull  through,"  he  added.  "But  it's 
only  me  wife  and  childer  that  I  care  about. 
You  '11  say  to  the  master  when  he  returns  home 
that  I've  lift  fur  the  horspital,  not  expectin'  to 
come  back.  The  month's  wages  I  won't  be 
takin' ;  let  it  rist  with  him  till  he  hears.  If  the 
doctors  should  not  pull  me  through,  the  thrifle 
of  money  and  me  watch  can  be  sint  to  me  wife. 
A  man  in  a  horspital  may  get  along  widout 
loose  change  or  a  timepace.  There's  a  praste 
at  San  Pedro,  Father  Duffy,  what  comes  from 
me  own  county  in  Ireland ;  he  knows  me  family 
well.  In  case  of  throuble  he  will  write  to  me 
f  rinds." 

"But  you  will  surely  get  through,"  the  mis 
tress  of  the  Hill  encouraged.  Her  voice  was 
full  of  sympathy. 

'  *  I  doubt  not  but  I  shall  die  in  the  horspital, ' ' 
Pat  persisted.  i  t  Don 't  be  botherin '  about  me, ' ' 
he  attempted  more  lightly.  "Chang  will  carry 
me  back  wages  and  me  watch  to  the  praste  at 


112       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

San  Pedro.  If  I  don't  come  back,  it's  grate 
ful  I  am  to  the  master  and  to  you  for  a  good 
home  in  a  strange  counthry." 

Sue  Chang  grinned  with  new  importance. 
"I  tell  Pat  no  be  scare,"  he  volunteered.  "I 
say  those  doctor  heap  smart — can  do  all  same 
wonder  trick.  I  tell  Pat  be  cheerful — get  cut 
up  quick.  I  say  stay  hospital  two  week,  len 
come  back  all  cure.  I  tell  Pat  I  keep  his 
place.  All  same  this  way" — Chang  explained 
with  graphic  gestures.  "I  do  Pat  work. 
Heap  easy ! "  he  insisted.  '  i  I  just  get  up  little 
early,  cut  glass,  water  lorange  trees.  Two 
week,  Pat  come  back  all  cure." 

The  role  of  good  Samaritan  came  naturally 
to  the  Yellow  Angel.  The  mistress  of  Temple 
Hill  smiled  her  approval. 

"Pat  shall  have  his  place  as  soon  as  he  is 
well  enough  to  work,"  she  promised. 

Sue  Chang  beamed  upon  his  downcast 
friend.  "You  hear?  Now  you  lite  you  wife 
addless  light  away;  len  I  come  hospital,  see 
how  you  get  along." 

Pat  sat  erect  at  the  table.  The  Celestial 
brought  him  a  writing-tablet  and  a  pencil, 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LAMB    113 

watching  eagerly  by  his  side.  The  Irishman 
made  several  agitated  attempts  to  produce  a 
legible  form,  then  at  last  he  tore  off  the 
sheet. 

"I'm  thinkin'  I'll  not  come  out,"  he  per 
sisted.  "The  chloroform  may  kill  me  as  aisy 
as  the  knife.  If  I  niver  come  back,  you'll  not 
forget  Father  Duffy  at  San  Pedro?  It  is 
wise  that  I  should  lave  the  address." 

He  bent  again  over  the  table.  His  hairy, 
freckled  hand  trembled  perceptibly  as  he 
handed  Chang  the  paper. 

"Now  can  you  rade  it?"  he  demanded. 
The  Celestial  made  the  attempt.  "Me  writin' 
is  not  of  the  best,"  Pat  apologized.  "I'll  say 
the  names  for  ye.  Listen  while  I  rade  it." 
He  coughed  to  hide  his  emotion.  * '  *  Mrs.  Nora 
Ryan,  Williams  Town,  By  Ballymoral,  County 
Kyle,  Ireland. '  I  '11  be  a  bit  easier  in  me  mind, 
now  that  me  wife  will  hear  of  me  death,"  he 
confided.  "Here's  me  watch;  take  care  of  it 
till  ye  know."  He  turned  respectfully  to  the 
mistress,  who  waited  like  one  bidden  to  an  ex 
ecution.  "Goodbye,  lady;  thank  ye  for  much 
kindness.  Excuse  me  to  the  master  on  ac- 


114       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

count  of  me  sudden  lavin'."  He  strode  from 
the  kitchen  with  Chang  close  at  his  heels. 

"I  go  catch  'lect'ic  car;  carry  Pat's  dless- 
suit  case,"  the  yellow  Samaritan  explained. 
"I  let  dinner  dishes  stand — wash  'em  up  when 
I  come  back." 

Later  the  mistress  of  Temple  Hill  heard  a 
gentle  clatter  of  china,  attuned  to  the  rising 
strains  of  " Onward,  Christian  Soldiers." 
Imperturbable  Chang  had  returned  to  the 
common  routine  of  life.  To  all  appearances 
Pat's  impending  tragedy  was  forgotten.  Yet 
such  was  in  no  wise  the  case,  as  following 
weeks  proved;  for  early  and  late  the  yellow 
Samaritan  strove  for  his  unfortunate  brother. 
Neither  trees  nor  flowers  thirsted  during  the 
Irish  gardener's  absence.  The  hum  of  the 
lawn-mower  evoked  sunrise  responses  from 
awakening  birds.  Then  one  morning  Chang 
came  to  the  mistress  of  the  Hill  with  a  hand 
full  of  mail. 

"Po'tman  heap  good!"  he  exulted.  "You 
get  five  letter.  Poor  Pat  get  one  too;  len  I 
clatch  plackage  from  China!"  His  kind  face 
glowed.  "Pat  get  along  great  down  hospital 


THE  LION  AND   THE  LAMB    115 

— 'most  cure  now.  I  take  Pat  his  letter — len 
he  will  be  all  well." 

He  went  off  quickly,  but  in  a  few  moments 
returned  radiant. 

"I  get  picture  from  China !  See  my  family 
— my  little  boy!"  He  now  beheld  an  actual 
portrait  of  his  first-born ;  for  in  dreams  alone 
had  he  seen  the  baby  of  years  back. 

"I  think  my  little  son  heap  lovely!"  he  ex 
ulted;  "more  plitty  Ian  my  two  Mothers' 
boys." 

The  mistress  of  the  Hill  took  the  picture. 
Photography  in  China  was  surely  advancing. 
The  pathos  of  the  attempted  family  grouping 
moved  her  strangely.  Before  a  fantastic 
background,  presumably  a  heathen  temple,  sat 
the  central  figures,  two  very  old  people,  the 
taller  one  encircling  with  his  arm  a  grandson, 
— Sue  Chang's  little  boy.  Further  back  stood 
the  Celestial's  two  married  brothers,  while 
flanking  the  wings  of  the  pictorial  landscape 
were  their  sons.  The  boys  in  question  looked 
embarrassed  and  frightened  out  of  their  wits. 

"I  think  my  boy  heap  nicer,"  Chang  de 
cided.  "My  two  blethers'  sons  so  mad!  See 


116       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

that  fellow  how  he  look — my  son  heap  smile !" 

The  lady  pointed  to  the  central  figures  with 
questioning  interest.  "The  one  holding  your 
little  boy  is  your  father?  Who,  then  is  the 
elderly  man  next*?" 

Sue  Chang's  face  broadened  into  a  smile. 
"That  no  man;  that  my  mudder!"  he  ex 
plained.  "You  think  she  have  funny  cloes? 
She  not  dless  up  much.  I  wish  she  put  on 
fine  thing — not  have  that  old  cheap  fan!" 

The  aged  Chinese  woman  had  hoped  to  honor 
her  absent  son  by  holding  a  five-cent  American 
palm-leaf  fan.  Chang  resented  the  common 
place  attempt. 

"Poor  old  f adder — poor  old  mudder — both 
must  soon  die!"  he  lamented. 

"But  where  is  your  wife  ?"  the  lady  pressed. 
Chang  shook  his  head. 

"My  wife — my  bludder's  wife — not  take 
picture;  they  too  scare!  Young  China 
loomans  velly  flaid ;  not  like  'Merican  loomans. 
China  loomans  not  like  show  off." 

He  wrapped  the  photograph  tenderly  in  its 
foreign  cover. 

"I  go  hospital  this  afternoon — let  Pat  see 


THE  LION  AND  THE  LAMB    117 

my  family;  take  his  letter.  Pat  'most  cure 
now.  I  think  his  letter  make  him  all  well. 
Flaps  he  get  good  luck  like  me — hear  his 
mother-in-law  be  dead." 

He  moved  gaily  to  his  work.  The  mistress 
of  the  Hill  heard  him  calling  the  doves,  saw 
them  flash  across  the  sky  after  their  break 
fast.  The  gentle  trickling  of  a  hose  assured 
her  that  rose-bushes  were  not  suffering  during 
her  gardener's  absence.  Then  she  went  from 
home  for  the  day.  But  later,  when  she  re 
turned,  she  saw  in  Sue  Chang's  elate  coun 
tenance  the  full  report  of  Pat  Ryan's  recovery. 
She  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  the  Irish 
man  was  seated  as  usual  before  a  platter  of 
rice  and  " praties."  He  rose  respectfully 
when  she  entered  the  kitchen.  His  composure 
was  significant,  the  change  in  his  countenance 
marked.  The  leonine  personality  was  again 
strong,  for  his  tawny  mane  and  whiskers  had 
both  been  wisely  pruned.  Hope  shone  once 
more  in  the  gray-green  eyes.  Sue  Chang,  the 
yellow  Samaritan,  glowed  by  the  side  of  his 
restored  friend. 

"I  say  all  time  Pat  get  cure,"  he  exclaimed, 


118       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

gleefully.  "I  say  those  doctor  heap  smart — 
cut  up  people,  all  same  easy;  sew  up  again — 
all  same  turkey.  Heap  fine  stuffin'!"  He 
laughed  at  his  realistic  joke. 

* 1 1  like  that  hospital, ' '  he  went  on.  ' '  Every 
time  I  go  there,  see  Pat,  all  velly  clean — heap 
nice  loomans  velly  kind — good,  all  same  angel. 
I  say  plare  every  day  so  Pat  get  cure.  Now 
that  good  luck  come  sure!  Pat  'most  well, 
soon  can  work  all  same  me — earn  wages — send 
money  back  home.  Len  some  day  Pat  go  Ire 
land,  I  go  China — see  our  sons,  give  those  boys 
good  educate — all  same  United  States  boy. 
Bible  say,  more  better  be  wise  like  snake,  good 
like  pigeon.  You  see?  Mission  teacher  tell 
me  that.  Now  I  understand.  I  make  my  son 
that  way." 

He  dashed  forward  to  the  range  just  in  time 
to  suppress  the  uprising  of  stock  in  a  soup-ket 
tle.  His  golden  brow  furrowed  deeply,  while 
for  the  time  being  grave  problems  were  lost  in 
steam. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM 

IN  the  Valley  of  the  Angels  "Old  Baldy's" 
white  head  substantiates  legend,  insures 
the  life  of  Santa  Claus.  If  it  were  not  for 
the  great  peak's  snowy  crest  and  glittering 
sides,  California  children  might  doubt  an  oft- 
repeated  tale.  But  the  story  of  many  lands 
holds  true,  when  shortly  before  Christmas,  the 
mountain  puts  on  a  blanket  of  cut  crystal. 
Then  little  ones  clap  sun-browned  hands  and 
shout,  "Santa  Claus  is  coming!"  At  last  the 
bulging  sledge,  the  prancing  reindeer,  are 
realities,  just  ready  to  slide  over  the  range, 
down  into  blooming  gardens  dressed  with  fir- 
trees. 

Temple  Hill  was  alive  to  approaching 
Christmas  joy;  for  this  year  the  grandchildren 
had  come  early,  two  full  weeks  before  the 
promised  day.  Meantime,  preliminary  cele- 

119 


120       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

bration  was  taking  on  a  spirit  somewhat  akin 
to  the  Fourth  of  July.  On  the  terrace  Sue 
Chang  shot  Chinese  firecrackers  and  flew  Ce 
lestial  kites  for  the  entertainment  of  Fraulein 
and  her  charges — three  baby  boys  from  the 
wintry  East.  From  a  point  of  vantage  the 
Mistress  of  the  Hill  kept  strenuous  watch 
above  her  grandsons.  Mingling  with  shouts 
of  glee  were  frequent  exclamations  in  German, 
while  close  to  the  scene  of  action  Pat  Ryan, 
the  Irish  gardener,  passed  bland  remarks  on 
Chinese  art. 

Suddenly  Sue  Chang  exulted.  Three 
charming  bird  kites — one  red,  the  other  two 
yellow — had  vaulted  safely  into  cloudless  blue. 

"Now  little  men  fly  him  all  light,"  the  Celes 
tial  proclaimed.  He  placed  a  ball  of  twine  in 
each  extended,  chubby  hand. 

* '  Must  hold  tight, ' '  he  commanded.  ' '  Plitty 
soon  let  out  more  stling,  so  bird  fly  high !  high ! 
high!  all  same  pigeon."  He  laughed  good- 
naturedly,  then  fled  before  the  exigencies  of 
approaching  luncheon. 

The  grandmother  came  upon  the  terrace  to 
assist  in  kite-lifting.  If  her  object  appeared 


THE  STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM   121 

less  scientific  than  Franklin's,  it  was  equally 
engaging.  In  truth,  the  shouts  of  grandsons 
send  electric  thrills  throughout  the  universe. 
The  grandmother  did  not  need  a  flash  of  forked 
lightning  to  complete  her  circuit.  Higher  and 
higher  soared  the  kites.  A  great  black  vul 
ture,  marking  red  and  yellow  prey,  swooped 
down,  sailed  forward,  then  lifted  to  a  higher 
zone.  The  boys  forgot  their  paper  birds  in 
ecstasy  of  wonder,  until  the  grandmother  and 
Fraulein  both  caught  valiantly  at  rolling  balls 
of  twine. 

"Plitty  big  fool — that  vulture;  think  Chin 
ese  kite  make  dinner!"  cried  Sue  Chang.  He 
was  back  upon  the  terrace.  "I  bling  invita 
tion,"  he  explained,  presenting  with  pride  a 
large  white  envelope.  "Heap  style,  all  same 
you  daughter  ledding  card."  His  golden 
brow  shone.  "This  year  boys  spend  lot 
money,  not  let  that  M.  E.  Mission  get  ahead." 
The  mistress  of  the  Hill  smiled  acknowledg 
ment.  "Last  year,"  Chang  went  on,  "M.  E. 
boys  make  heap  big  time,  get  invitations  all 
plint — do  much  more  Ian  Plesbyterian  boys. 
Now  we  beat  those  M.  E.  boys,  sure.'7 


The  lady  nodded,  then  read  on  a  thick  con 
ventional  sheet  the  polite  summons  to  appear, 
with  her  family,  at  the  Presbyterian  Chinese 
Mission  on  the  evening  of  December  the 
twenty-third. 

"Ploglam  followed  by  fine  refleshments!" 
Sue  Chang  exulted.  "Boys  have  Clistmas 
early — head  time,  so  not  too  much  work  at 
home.  You  come?"  He  waited  her  reply 
with  anxiety.  "I  hope  you  all  come,"  he  en 
treated,  half  skeptical  of  the  honor  craved. 

"We  shall  certainly  accept  the  invitation," 
she  assured  him. 

"Len  I  most  happy,"  Chang  owned,  with 
downcast  eyes.  "I  like  my  family  all  be 
plesent,  claus  I  make  speech." 

His  eyes  lifted,  while  a  ruddy  flush  mounted 
to  his  golden  brow.  The  spirit  of  oratory  had 
awakened  Celestial  ego ;  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  Sue  Chang  was  smitten  with  vain 
glory. 

"I  say  my  speech  lovely,"  he  went  on  with 
shameless  confidence.  "Teacher  say  my 
speech  more  better  Ian  any  udder  boy.  I  make 


THE   STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM    123 

my  speech  up  myself — all  out  my  own  head!" 

A  shadow  passed  over  the  face  of  the  Mis 
tress,  but  with  commendable  resolve  she 
smiled.  Could  it  be  possible  that  original  com 
position  might  yet  interfere  with  her  cook's 
savory  efforts  of  years  back?  Would  Sue 
Chang's  concoctions  of  oratory  mix  with  ma 
terial  salads?  She  reasoned  from  the  inner 
soul,  painfully  aware  of  inadequacy,  for  she 
had  never  been  able  to  rule  with  success  her 
own  conflicting  domestic  and  literary  passions. 
When  she  occasionally  visited  a  woman's  club, 
she  felt  her  limitations  keenly.  There  she  was 
told  that  talent  rose  from  soapsuds,  as  spark 
ling  as  Venus  from  the  sea.  One  poetess  had 
fished  up  a  lyric  with  her  dishcloth.  The  Mis 
tress  of  the  Hill  was  not  gifted  enough  for 
such  brave  endeavor;  and  she  mistrusted  the 
effect  of  oratory  upon  roasts  and  entremets. 

Sue  Chang  still  waited,  yet  another  request 
trembling  on  his  lips. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked.  "What  can  I  do 
for  the  Mission  boys?" 

"One  layer  cake — six  dozen  lady-flinger — 


124       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

few  sugar  kliss — one  basket  loranges,"  he 
enumerated.  ' '  Certainly, ' '  the  lady  answered ; 
"I  am  delighted  to  contribute." 

"  Thank  you.  You  always  so  kind.  Boys 
say  my  people  velly  high  tone,"  Chang  de 
clared  by  way  of  compliment.  "I  gless  I  bake 
cocoanut  cake,  cover  over  jus'  like  snow — all 
same  Clistmas!"  He  chuckled  like  a  child. 
Then  his  countenance  intensified.  "  After 
all,  I  heap  scare,"  he  owned  with  new 
importance. 

"Nonsense!"  said  the  Mistress.  "You 
never  fail  with  cake;  why  should  you  be 
alarmed  now?" 

Scorn  ruffled  the  Celestial's  amber  forehead. 

"I  not  scare  'bout  my  cake.  I  bake  best 
cake  this  town.  Cocoanut  cake,  lady-flinger 
jus'  easy — no  tlick  make  those!  I  scare  'bout 
my  speech ;  I  flaid  I  get  cold  feet,  not  say  'bout 
those  Bethlehem  star  like  teacher  tell  me." 

"Oh,  I  see."    She  dared  not  smile. 

"Jus'  this  way,"  Chang  went  on  with  an  elo 
quent  motion.  "My  flend  Gam  learn  his  piece 
in  book.  Maybe  he  forget,  len  teacher  start 
him  up.  I  not  do  that  way,  can  not  be  start 


THE   STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM    125 

up — must  think  all  time,  inside  my  head.  I 
ploud  you  come  hear  me  make  speech.  I  sing, 
too,'*  he  blandly  continued.  "Four  boys  sing 
three  time,  all  togedder.  That  not  velly  hard. 
One  song  heap  lovely,  'most  like  my  speech,  all 
'bout  that  star — those  shepherd  watching  flock, 
len  glory  shine  alound!" 

"I  know  the  hymn,"  said  the  Mistress. 

She  turned  her  attention  once  more  to  the 
kites,  and  Sue  Chang  moved  away.  Still 
through  days  preceding  a  promised  event  he 
reported  progress,  while  in  no  instance  did  the 
study  of  oratory  and  song  interfere  with  the 
family  digestion.  There  were  no  blunders  in 
seasoning,  no  charred  results  to  mark  the 
course  of  a  Celestial  dream. 

On  the  morning  of  the  great  event  the  Mis 
tress  of  the  Hill  tried  in  vain  to  curtail  the 
duties  of  her  cook.  But  Sue  Chang's  prepa 
rations  for  the  Mission  spread  had  been  com 
pleted  the  night  before;  he  was  calm, before 
an  impending  role.  Doubtless  the  perfection 
of  his  cake  gave  him  fresh  confidence  in  re 
gard  to  his  speech. 

"I  get  my  dlinner  half -hour  early — that  all 


126       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

difference,"  he  insisted;  then — with  rising 
concern.  "Maybe  you  let  Pat  take  lunabout, 
dlive  me  down  Mission?  I  take  my  reflesh- 
ments,  help  boys  decolate.  "We  make  all  heap 
lovely  for  visitor.  I  go  after  lunch,  not  stay 
velly  long."  He  beamed  over  the  prospect. 
"Everybody  so  kind  this  good  Clistmas  time 
— all  because  that  star."  The  theme  still  held 
him. 

"You  see  my  hair?  Pat  give  that  slick  cut 
— save  me  two  bit.  I  glad  I  not  have  my 
queue  now  I  make  speech."  The  acknowl 
edgment  welled  from  the  heart;  the  spirit  of 
progress  was  with  him.  Not,  however,  until 
evening  did  the  Mistress  realize  the  full  im 
port  of  Chang's  new  role.  For  one  night  he 
was  to  play  both  host  and  orator. 

She  arrived  at  the  Mission,  to  find  every 
thing  correct  and  impressive.  Flowers  with 
electric  light  swinging  in  handsome  colored 
lanterns  made  gala  background  for  a  tall 
Christmas  tree,  dressed  in  Chinese  taste,  and 
fairly  bending  beneath  its  burden  of  gifts. 
The  picturesque  charm  of  former  celebrations 


THE  STAE  OF  BETHLEHEM    127 

was  perhaps  missing ;  for  this  year  gay  flowing 
sleeves  no  longer  belonged  to  queueless  China 
men  who  ushered  at  the  door  and  passed  pro 
grammes  to  guests  with  elaborate  bows.  Yet 
if  American  " store  clothes"  fell  short  of 
grace  and  color,  there  was  now  for  the  budding 
heathen  a  new  brightness,  a  rising  glow  of  in 
telligence  lifting  him  from  ages  of  supersti 
tion.  Natural  characteristics  of  the  great 
race — true  politeness,  gentleness,  and  loyalty 
— remained  unchanged.  If  aBstheticism  suf 
fered,  ethics  flourished. 

As  the  Mistress  of  Temple  Hill  gazed  over 
a  packed  audience  she  found  herself  smiling. 
The  elite  of  the  town  were  assembled  in  force 
— not  only  those  employing  Celestial  cooks, 
but  a  number  of  winter  visitors  from  small 
adjacent  hotels  where  " yellow  angels"  held 
culinary  sway.  Every  one  had  come  for  a 
merry  time,  curious,  yet  outwardly  respectful 
of  an  occasion  all  too  serious  for  poor  Sue 
Chang.  For  Chang  had  met  the  Temple  Hill 
household  with  a  wan,  pathetic  smile.  The 
possibility  of  "cold  feet"  was  now  with  him. 


128       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Still,  as  he  moved  up  and  down  the  aisle  with 
programmes,  active  service  seemed  to  relieve 
the  strain  of  coming  events. 

When  the  exercises  actually  began,  he 
gathered  ease  from  an  outlet  of  song.  "Pull 
for  the  Shore,  Sailor"  and  "When  Shepherds 
Watched  Their  Flocks  by  Night,"  both  went 
off  with  melodious  effect.  The  quartet — 
loudly  applauded  each  time — became  almost 
blase.  To  appearances  the  Yellow  Angel  was 
himself  again. 

Then  Kim  Lee,  president  of  the  evening, 
called  his  name:  Chang's  speech  was  due. 
The  next  moments  were  tragic,  not  only  for 
the  orator,  but  for  the  family  of  Temple  Hill. 
Would  he  never  begin?  Was  "The  Star  of 
Bethlehem"  to  be  produced  in  pantomime? 
The  Mistress  clasped  her  hands,  and  toyed  anx 
iously  with  a  lorgnette.  Her  Celestial's 
elaborate  bow  had  brought  her  confidence; 
now,  alas!  he  seemed  as  one  struck  dumb. 
Greenish  pallor  spread  over  the  amber  of  his 
cheeks.  But  he  was  bowing  again ;  for  on  the 
outskirts  of  a  seated  throng  up  rose  Pat  Ryan. 


THE   STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM    129 

The  "lion's"  tawny  head  shone  above  a  barri 
cade  of  women's  hats.  Suddenly  his  hairy  fist 
shot  out  menacingly.  Sue  Chang  caught  the 
signal  and  smiled  pathetically.  The  fist 
swung  forward,  almost  hitting  a  bulwark  of 
plumes  and  chiffon.  Pat's  countenance 
strained  in  every  visible  line;  his  whiskers 
bristled  with  unconditional  rage.  The  gray- 
green  eyes  shot  yellow  darts  at  Sue  Chang, 
electrified  him — at  last  brought  him  back  to 
life.  Picture  hats  went  down  before  the  mirth 
of  shaking  society  girls,  yet  the  Irishman  held 
the  field. 

And  now  at  last  "The  Star  of  Bethlehem" 
was  rising,  shining  in  the  East.  The  wise  men 
came  seeking  the  Holy  Child.  Sue  Chang  had 
caught  his  theme,  was  going  forward  with  the 
simple  story. 

From  the  rear  of  a  smiling  audience  the 
Irishman  encouraged — made  plain  his  disgust 
whenever  the  orator  drew  halting  reflections 
from  the  Star.  Confidence,  enjoined  by  clos 
ing  efforts,  seemed  to  restore  Chang's  golden 
hue.  The  Mistress  now  hoped  that  the  crisis 


130       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

had  passed.  Forgetful  of  all  but  his  hopes 
for  the  awakening  Chinese  Nation,  the  Celes 
tial  plunged  on,  grew  eloquent. 

"That  Star  of  Beth-le-hem  shine  many, 
many  year,'7  he  declared  without  a  quaver. 
"Everyone  look  up,  be  glad,  have  happy  time 
claus  that  blight  Star !  Plitty  soon  all  people 
see  that  Star,  be  good — be  kind  unto  one 
anudder — do  no  great  sin.  Now — now — the 
light — "  He  stalled  hopelessly.  Pallor  over 
spread  his  dark  face ;  he  was  lost. 

"The  loight  is  breaking,"  prompted  Pat, 
above  intervening  hats.  He  had  attended  fre 
quent  rehearsals — knew  the  cue;  Sue  Chang 
must  be  saved  at  any  personal  cost.  "The 
loight  is  breaking!"  This  time  the  lion 
roared. 

A  wilting  orator  repeated  the  eloquent  as 
sumption.  "The  light  is  blaking,"  Chang 
went  on,  then  gathered  strength  for  a  success 
ful  climax.  "The  light  is  blaking!  over  the 
sea — that  Star — that  Bethlehem  Star — shine 
for  old  China!"  A  modest  bow  completed  the 
ordeal;  the  speech  was  finished. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  said  the  masculine  repre- 


THE  STAB  OF  BETHLEHEM    131 

sentative  of  Temple  Hill.  The  Celestial's 
struggle  involved  family  pride ;  until  now  the 
master  had  not  understood  vicarious  oratory. 

Sue  Chang's  golden  countenance  relaxed 
amid  rounds  of  applause.  Smiles  hid  at  the 
corners  of  his  eyes  as  he  vainly  sought  for  Pat 
Ryan.  The  Irishman  had  dropped  below  the 
horizon  of  picture  hats,  doubtless  relieved  that 
his  own  heavy  part  was  over. 

But  later,  when  the  programme  terminated 
with  an  address  by  Pastor  Gow,  a  visiting 
celebrity  from  Los  Angeles,  the  lion's  tawny 
mane  again  lent  character  to  the  outlying  cir 
cle.  When  Sue  Chang  brought  a  handsome 
embroidered  silk  handkerchief  from  the 
Christmas  tree  and  pressed  it  feelingly  upon 
his  shrinking  friend  a  number  of  guests 
marked  the  pantomime.  All  expression  had 
vanished  from  Pat's  pale  countenance.  His 
tawny  hairy  visage  seemed  devoid  of  emo 
tion.  His  small  green  eyes  had  retreated, 
as  it  were,  under  cover  of  bushy  yellow 
brows.  Only  the  droll  corners  of  the  man's 
mouth  evinced  his  satisfaction.  Pat  was 
tame  as  a  happy  lion  duly  fed.  Still  he 


132       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

would  not  budge  from  his  outlying  posi 
tion.  The  lair  of  picture  hats  yet  sheltered 
him.  While  Sue  Chang  served  him  to 
Christmas  sweets,  the  Mistress  of  the  Hill 
turned  her  attention  to  the  resplendent  tree. 
For  now  every  one  invited  was  being  remem 
bered  in  some  delicate  way.  Charming  gifts 
for  "teacher,"  and  others  equally  favored, 
filled  her  with  amazement.  When  Kim  Lee, 
master  of  ceremonies,  at  length  announced  her 
name,  she  was  strangely  moved  to  receive  a 
large  bright  box.  Significant  decorations  on 
the  rose-twined  lid  led  her  to  look  for  a  prize, 
and  she  was  not  disappointed.  Under  layers 
of  soft  rice-paper  she  found  an  exquisite  tea- 
cloth,  richly  embroidered  with  the  symbolic 
dragon.  Her  Celestial's  red  card  lay  on  top. 
Laboriously  inscribed  was  his  loyal  greeting 
to  Temple  Hill;  then,  as  climax  to  a  long 
career — " Fifteenth  annual,  from  Sue  Chang." 

Every  moment  the  Christmas  tree  dispensed 
a  tasteful  gift,  when  each  proud  servant 
honored  his  own  household. 

Then  finally,  the  best  Chinese  cooks  in  Cali 
fornia  vied  before  guests  with  delicacies, 


THE   STAR  OF  BETHLEHEM    133 

daintily  served,  in  accordance  with  strict  in 
culcated  forms.  On  this  night  Celestial  eti 
quette  shone  supreme,  unconsciously  reflecting 
both  the  teaching  and  artifice  of  many  town  es 
tablishments.  An  amusing  biograph  appeared 
to  pass  before  the  eyes  of  the  Temple  Hill  Mis 
tress,  who  thought  she  detected  company  man 
ners  of  friends  in  the  now  duly  adapted  con 
vention  of  their  " yellow  angels." 

When  Sue  Chang  bowed  before  her  with 
plate  and  napkin,  she  hastened  to  congratulate 
him  upon  his  speech.  But  he  had  been  too 
ambitious  to  feel  satisfied  with  a  laborious, 
halting  effort.  He  smiled  wanly,  and  shook 
his  head. 

"I  know  I  not  do  good — forget  all  time — not 
say  half!"  he  owned,  dejectedly. 

Yet  it  was  not  until  next  morning  upon  the 
terrace,  that  he  unburdened  his  soul.  When 
he  again  sent  up  bird  kites  for  grandsons — 
still  waiting  for  Santa  Claus — he  turned  wist 
fully  to  the  happy  Grandmother.  His  humil 
ity  was  touching. 

"I  gless  I  not  tly  make  speech  any  more," 
he  declared.  "I  solly  I  get  cold  feet,  but  can- 


134       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

not  help.  My  head  so  stupid.  I  forget  every 
thing!  Len  I  see  Pat.  Pat  so  mad,  make 
fist  all  same  fight  me.  Plitty  soon  I  remem 
ber — get  that  start — get  move  on.  Len  I  do 
my  best.  But  I  not  be  educate,  cannot  say 
speech  velly  good — same  Pastor  Gow.  Maybe 
some  day  my  little  son  be  educate,  make  lovely 
speech,  not  get  cold  feet  same  he  fadder.  I 
gless  I  jus'  be  cook — make  good  cake,  not  tly 
that  speech  any  more."  He  finished  with  a 
feeble  smile:  then  went  to  his  kitchen  to  per 
form  his  vow. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  COAT  OF  MANY  COLORS 

LITTLE  Ning  Moon  looked  upon  the 
Spring  with  joy.  The  Winter  had  been 
cold  and  long ;  now  the  door  of  her  home  stood 
wide  open.  There  were  no  windows  in  the 
tiny  green  brick  dwelling  and  during  dark, 
wet  months,  light  sifted  only  through  a  trans 
parent  hole  in  the  roof. 

Ning  Moon — Mrs.  Sue  Chang — laughed 
gleefully  as  she  squatted  upon  a  mat  with  her 
embroidery.  Sunshine  flooded  the  room, 
warming  even  remote  corners  reserved  for 
sleeping.  Ning  Moon  glanced  across  an 
earthen  floor  to  a  cosy  bunk  prepared  for  her 
first-born  son.  The  boy  was  not  yet  awake. 
His  mother  believed  that  rest  brought  strength 
and  beauty  to  little  ones.  She  had  moved 
softly,  all  morning,  fearing  to  disturb  her 
"Son  of  Heaven, "  who  must  grow  like  a 

135 


136       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

flower  of  Spring — astonish  his  honourable 
father,  coming  at  the  end  of  two  months  from 
far-away  America — from  the  south  province 
of  California. 

Five  long  years  had  dragged  between  Sue 
Chang's  last  home-coming  and  the  present 
time.  The  little  Chinese  wife  plied  her  needle 
with  conflicting  emotions.  Beautiful  shades 
of  heavy  silk  floss  wove  in  and  out — formed 
into  leaf  or  blossom  of  exquisite  grace  and 
composition.  Ning  Moon  worked  feverishly. 
Almost  the  last  stitches  were  taken;  if  the 
child  slept,  the  coat  of  many  colors  would  be 
finished!  She  dashed  a  long  rosy  thread  into 
the  needle;  soon  an  opening  bud  blushed  soft 
and  tender  in  her  dexterous  fingers.  The  little 
coat  was  done!  Ning  Moon  held  it  up  at 
arm's  length,  then  craned  her  firm  brown 
throat  in  final  judgment.  The  dark,  smooth 
head  bent  critically ;  lifted  reassured,  satisfied. 

Ning  Moon's  black  eyes  snapped.  How 
beautiful  her  son  would  appear  in  the  silken, 
holiday  coat.  Blue  in  body,  like  Heavenly 
azure,  redolent  with  colors,  caught  from 
Spring,  the  dainty  garment  bloomed  in  her 


COAT   OF  MANY  COLORS    137 

gentle  grasp.  There  was  also  a  little  em 
broidered  cap  to  match. 

Now  very  soon,  after  two  more  moons — 
after  five  long  years — she  would  dress  her  boy 
in  his  princely  apparel ;  lead  him  to  the  river, 
there  to  await  his  honourable  father's  home 
coming.  Some  morning  the  old  junk  boat 
would  bring  Sue  Chang  to  his  native  village. 
Safe,  rich,  eager  for  one  whole  year  of  rest 
and  joy,  the  traveler  would  espy  his  wife  and 
son,  both  standing  on  the  bank  of  the  dividing 
stream. 

The  mental  picture  pleased  faithful  Ning 
Moon ;  then  suddenly  her  golden  brow  became 
tarnished  with  doubt.  For,  after  all,  what 
manner  of  man  was  Sue  Chang  now  return 
ing  ?  Half  saddened,  the  Chinese  spouse  hung 
the  little  coat  of  many  colors  upon  a  peg. 
Spring  sunbeams  crept  through  the  door  to 
play  amongst  silken  rosebuds.  Ning  Moon 
walked  slowly  to  a  chest  in  the  corner,  from 
which  she  took  a  bundle  of  letters  and  kodak 
pictures,  sent  by  her  husband  across  the  sea. 

United  States  postmarks  on  the  envelopes, 
each  one  now  worn  with  devoted  handling, 


138       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

the  young  wife  opened  the  uppermost  missive. 
The  paper  inside  was  no  longer  cherry  red. 
The  absent,  advanced  Celestial  had  risen  su 
perior  to  an  ancient  love  token  while  he  yet 
brushed  fantastic,  wriggling  characters  to 
Mng  Moon.  Now,  alas !  Sue  Chang  used  dull 
brown  to  convey  devotion,  this  being  the  con 
servative  tone  of  the  "  Chinese  Reform  Party" 
of  the  far-away  province  of  California.  Little 
Ning  Moon  sighed.  Did  her  lord  intend  to 
put  slight  upon  her?  She  was  sure  that  he 
meant  no  indignity;  for  here  were  kind,  af 
fectionate  words.  She  dropped  her  lashes 
and  read. 

"In  two  months  I  behold  my  sacred  family! 
After  five  years  I  return  glad  in  my  heart. 
No  woman  steals  my  eyes — I  have  them  only 
for  Ning  Moon!  for  our  first  born — our  'Son 
of  Heaven ! '  She  paused,  smiling,  then  went 
on,  with  gathering  mistrust. 

"But  no  longer  do  I  pray  to  Idols.  China 
— my  country,  too  slow — too  dark.  United 
States  feel  contempt.  You  not  understand? 
I  tell  you  some  day  how  white  people  despise 


old  foolish  nation.  United  States  say  Chinese 
look  all  same  monkey.  I  feel  that  shame  long 
time;  then  'Keform  Party'  tell  us  cut  off 
queue;  dress  like  'Merican  man — not  like 
women — long  hair — those  old  garment !  Now  I 
feel  happy !  I  send  picture  so  you  see.  You 
look  that  middle  man,  you  find  you  husband — 
all  same  Plesident  'Young  Men's  Mission 
Club.' 

"I  hope  you  like  that  new  suit — dark  brown 
— cost  eighteen  dollar  fifty  cents.  Pretty 
much  expensive;  yet  must  have.  Those  two 
little  boys  so  cute — so  smart — belong  'Young 
Men's  Club' — say  piece — sing  many  songs. 
They  fadder — Pastor  Gow — bling  sons  so 
ploud!  all  get  picture  take.  When  I  come 
home  I  tell  my  boy  'bout  Pastor  Gow  two  little 
sons.  I  teach  my  first  born  English — all  same 
that  California  State  First  Reader." 

Poor  Ning  Moon  sighed,  not  rejoicing  in  the 
picture  of  her  transformed  spouse.  She 
thought  him  plain,  ungraceful,  in  the  ugly  suit 
with  a  white  halter  gripping  his  throat.  To 
the  Oriental  wife,  Sue  Chang  appeared  sadly 


140       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

uncomfortable.  His  cropped,  thickly  grown 
hair,  parted  almost  in  the  middle,  had  ruined 
Mongolian  distinction. 

In  an  elemental  way  poor  Ning  Moon 
wondered  if  much  learning — discernment  to 
interpret  intricate  passages  from  the  Califor 
nia  State  First  Reader — could  have  produced 
the  severe  squint  between  her  husband's  hon 
ourable  eyes.  She  hid  a  golden,  ignorant 
young  countenance  in  slim  brown  hands ;  then 
stamped  unbound  feet,  released  by  her  absent 
lord's  command.  Quite  true,  she  hobbled 
more  freely;  yet  to  the  child  wife,  duly  es 
poused  for  tiny  shoes  and  high-class  beauty, 
there  came  a  rush  of  bitterness.  After  five 
years,  she  half  dreaded  to  see  enlightened  Sue 
Chang. 

Again  she  studied  the  group  at  "The  Young 
Men's  Mission  Club."  Erudite  personalities 
utterly  bewildered  her.  This  grave  First 
Reader  which  Sue  Chang  expounded !  Was 
it  more  exalted,  even  more  difficult  than  the 
teachings  of  Confucius?  And  the  little  sons 
of  the  Missionary  priest  ?  Why  must  she  re 
gard  them  except  with  scorn  ?  In  dark,  tight- 


COAT  OF  MANY  COLOES    141 

fitting  clothes — evidently  modeled  after  disci 
ples  of  the  hateful  Eef orm  Party — the  Chinese 
manikins  were  entirely  outclassed  by  her  own 
gorgeous  boy.  Heavy  fear  came  upon  Ning 
Moon's  sorrowing  soul.  She  glanced  through 
angry  tears  at  the  little  coat  of  many  colors, 
hanging  on  the  peg.  Sunbeams  still  kissed 
richly  wrought  roses.  With  passion  Mng 
Moon  could  not  explain,  she  pressed  an  amber 
cheek  against  the  padded  softness  of  her 
finished  work.  Labor  seemed  vain.  Sue 
Chang  wrould  no  longer  rejoice  in  the  beautiful, 
bright  garments  prepared  for  his  son.  Now, 
he  would  forever  point  to  the  images  of  tiny 
men  who  resembled  brown  grasshoppers — ugly 
black  beetles — snails  uncoiled. 

The  call  of  her  first-born  sent  her  weeping 
to  the  Celestial  bunk.  She  took  the  child  up, 
stifling  her  own  sobs.  His  round,  moist  face 
lifted  like  a  golden  poppy  awakened  by  the 
sun.  The  mothers'  heart  softened.  She 
washed  and  dressed  the  boy  with  defiant  pride ; 
then  watched  him  eat  his  breakfast  of  rice 
and  pork.  When  he  was  satisfied — beginning 
to  pound  with  chop-sticks  in  unmannerly  fash- 


142       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

ion — she  led  him  to  the  open  door  for  a  bask 
in  sunshine.  The  little  coat  of  blue — of  roses, 
still  hung  on  the  peg.  Ning  Moon  took  it 
down,  folded  it  gently,  pressed  it  ecstatically ; 
then  locked  it  away  in  the  chest  with  her  hus 
band's  brown  letters  and  the  kodak  pictures 
of  the  Young  Men's  Chinese  Mission  Club. 

All  day  Sue  Chang's  wife  brooded.  For 
tunately  at  early  evening,  just  before  she  shut 
and  bolted  the  door  to  the  little  green  brick 
house,  she  saw  the  new  crescent  of  the  moon. 
Instantly  she  felt  nothing  save  desperate  long 
ing;  a  tugging  of  her  woman's  heathen  soul. 
She  would  think  no  more  of  her  husband's 
strange  belief;  of  his  " White  Devil"  gar 
ments;  of  the  profane  First  Reader.  It 
seemed  enough  that  a  new  moon  promised  to 
full,  to  wane,  to  shine  again  for  the  last  long 
month  before  the  coming  of  Sue  Chang. 

Ning  Moon  went  to  bed  and  slept  soundly 
by  the  side  of  her  boy.  Through  weeks  follow 
ing,  she  took  no  thought  of  the  little  coat  of 
many  colors,  hidden  in  the  chest.  Spring  had 
taken  hold  of  the  Southern  Province.  The 
wife  of  Sue  Chang  worked  in  a  small  garden 


COAT  OF  MANY  COLORS    143 

with  a  view  to  young  vegetables.  Tender 
green  shoots  brightened  the  brown  earth. 
Her  husband  should  live  fat!  She  cleaned 
and  recleaned  her  tiny  home.  Everything 
shone.  When  she  had  nothing  else  to  do,  she 
visited,  with  her  son,  from  house,  to  house, 
always  extolling  her  spouse.  Of  nineteen 
families,  comprising  the  village,  all  were 
"Sue,"  of  equal  caste  and  industry. 

The  clan  lived  apart,  two  miles  from  a  mar 
ket  town,  in  surprising  harmony.  Sue 
Chang's  old  parents — exulting  over  " inside 
grandchildren" — brothers-in-law  with  wives, 
cousins  galore,  all  kept  tab  on  pretty  Ning 
Moon.  She  was  above  reproach.  Even  a 
mother-in-law  found  no  story  for  the  absent 
son  and  husband.  Every  relative  in  the  vil 
lage  looked  forward  to  the  great  traveler's 
return;  and  at  last  the  time  grew  short.  A 
second  moon  hung  crescent ;  then  fulled.  But 
two  weeks  stood  between  Mrs.  Sue  and  a  year 
of  bliss. 

The  happy  wife  expected  no  more  brown 
letters.  Now  her  man  would  come !  She  had 
almost  ceased  to  remember  Pastor  Gow's 


144       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

manikins,  when  to  her  complete  undoing,  she 
one  day  received  a  photograph,  emphasizing 
beyond  a  doubt,  the  American  store-clothes  of 
promising  disciples  and  little  sons  of  the  Cali 
fornia  Chinese  Mission.  Anguish  returned  to 
Ning  Moon's  heart.  She  struggled  piteously 
against  the  new  picture.  Sue  Chang  had  been 
cruel!  She  would  not  interpret  his  wish. 
The  men  on  the  card  were  evil !  She  worked 
harder  than  ever  in  the  garden,  watering,  at 
evening,  tender  rows  of  shooting  green;  next 
morning  prodding  the  earth  with  rage  and  vi 
cious  energy. 

Then,  one  day  she  threw  aside  a  primeval 
hoe,  fastened  tight  the  door,  and  stole  away  to 
the  market  town,  with  only  her  son  for  com 
pany.  No  spying  relative  saw  Sue  Chang's 
wife  depart.  The  tightly-closed  house  indi 
cated  simply  an  afternoon  nap.  But  carefully 
folded,  in  layers  of  rice  paper,  Ning  Moon  had 
wrapped  the  little  coat  of  many  colors.  The 
boy  by  her  side  prattled  gleefully.  His 
mother's  soul  .was  dark.  She  felt  no  delight 
in  the  bright  May  day,  already  wooing  a  kiss 
from  June.  Soft  hills,  the  river — flowing  as 


COAT   OF  MANY  COLORS    145 

silver — brought  Ning  Moon  no  joy.  Red 
tiled  roofs  on  tiny  green  brick  houses  marked 
her  path.  She  took  slight  note  of  wayside 
beauty.  When  Sue  Chang's  heir  grew  tired 
and  cried,  she  dragged  him  the  last  half  mile 
in  anger,  hobbling  forward  herself  with 
strange  rebellion. 

Once  at  the  market  town,  she  arranged  a 
quick,  unequal,  disastrous  exchange;  then 
trudged  back  home,  still  urging  her  sleepy  son ; 
alas!  without  his  coat  of  many  colors.  In 
stead  of  the  beautiful,  gay,  little  garment,  the 
mother  carried  a  measurement  of  ugly  dark 
brown  cloth.  Next  day  and  for  others  follow 
ing,  Ning  Moon  kept  her  house.  Relatives 
standing  before  the  door,  waited  for  Sue 
Chang's  wife  to  open  a  slow,  unwilling  portal. 
Mischief  seemed  brewing  within!  Yet  al 
ways,  there  \vas  the  boy — always  half  un 
dressed — generally  wailing !  And  Ning  Moon 
had  lost  her  smile.  Mystery  hung  for  gossips, 
until  one  morning,  the  day  on  which  the 
traveler  from  America  was  expected  home — 
all  became  plain.  In  the  Summer  dew,  Ning 
Moon,  with  her  son,  watched  the  slow  approach 


146       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

of  the  old  junk  on  the  river.  Nearer,  nearer 
it  came.  Half  naked  yellow  men  jumped  into 
the  water,  pulled,  yelled  like  demons.  The 
landing  was  made. 

Then  Sue  Chang,  conventional,  strange; 
without  his  queue ;  surmounted  by  Derby  hat ; 
oppressed  with  suit  case  and  a  carefully  rolled 
umbrella,  leaped  from  the  boat,  gazing  anx 
iously  about  for  his  young  wife  and  a  fat  little 
boy  in  gorgeous  raiment.  In  the  crowd  on  the 
shore  he  saw  Ning  Moon.  She  tarried  apart, 
shame-faced,  holding  by  the  hand  her  son. 
Sue  Chang,  the  returned  Celestial,  scarce  be 
lieved  his  eyes.  No  bright  trousers,  no  flam 
ing  over-dress  adorned  the  chubby  body  of  his 
heir.  The  Chinese  child  stood  out  a  manikin 
— a  perfect  counterpart  of  Pastor  Gow's 
young  sons.  Ning  Moon  read  approval  in  her 
husband's  eager  face.  Her  hour  of  triumph 
had  arrived!  She  pressed  proudly  forward 
with  her  boy,  while  the  curious,  gaping  crowd 
fell  back. 

For  the  " House  of  Sue" — the  nineteen 
families  assembled  by  the  river — there  was  at 
last  a  sensation. 


CHAPTER  IX 

HIS  DREAM  OF  THE  REPUBLIC 

SUE  CHANG— our  Yellow  Angel— was 
growing  old:  years  had  slipped  away. 
We  no  longer  spoke  of  him  lightly — as  a  China- 
boy.  That  first  day  when  he  sat  under  Temple 
Hill  pepper  trees,  shelling  peas,  still  marked 
the  humble  beginning  for  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury's  service;  yet,  withal,  time  had  dealt  with 
him  in  a  marvelous  manner.  He  was  strong 
and  confident;  no  longer  confounded  by  diffi 
cult  steps  of  Christian  warfare.  Occidental 
ideals  had  hastened  Celestial  evolution,  but 
had  not  ruined  his  cooking.  As  a  family,  we 
could  hardly  contemplate  life  without  the  Yel 
low  Angel.  For  Sue  Chang  had  gradually  be 
come  a  personality  outside  of  his  kitchen.  We 
felt  him  to  be  the  noble  exponent  of  his  an 
cient  race.  The  destiny  of  old  China  now 

147 


148       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

moved  his  soul  and  stimulated  his  ambition 
with  dreams  of  liberty.  He  no  longer  hailed 
from  a  country  of  tyranny  and  ignominious 
queues.  The  Manchu  Dynasty  had  fallen ;  the 
dragon  at  last  was  slain.  Suddenly  Chang's 
countrymen,  frightened  like  children  after  a 
long  sleep,  called  to  him  from  afar.  In  view 
of  conditions  enjoined  by  the  New  Republic, 
every  celestial  working  for  gain  in  the  United 
States  contemplated  a  voyage  across  the  Pa 
cific.  Simple  tasks  in  a  wayfaring  land  grew 
to  be  irksome,  while  "Home  Sweet  Home"  and 
"My  Country  'Tis  of  Thee"  became  favorite 
songs  at  the  Mission,  where  interest  in  civil 
government  at  last  threatened  to  displace  ele 
mental  theology.  The  flesh-pots  of  Cathay — 
almost  forgotten — were  again  remembered. 
Longing  for  home  and  family  stirred  the 
alien 's  breast.  He  felt  like  an  independent  be 
ing, — a  man.  Suddenly  unjust  mortifying 
treatment  dealt  out  to  him  by  uncouth  govern 
ment  officials  seemed  to  harden  his  heart  to  the 
United  States.  "The  Land  of  the  Free"  was 
not  for  him,  and  he  no  longer  acknowledged  a 
paradox  which  humbled  him.  He  longed  to 


HIS   DREAM  149 

return  to  the  old  world;  to  a  republic  of  Ms 
own  making. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  on  Temple  Hill  there 
was  consternation  and  sorrow ;  for  Sue  Chang 
was  going  back  to  China ;  going  back  to  stay. 
At  last  the  Yellow  Angel  was  to  be  counted  a 
faithful  factor  among  millions  of  countrymen 
struggling  for  light  and  freedom.  The  situa 
tion  was  grave  on  every  side. 

''What  shall  we  do?"  the  mistress  of  the 
Hill  implored. 

"The  dickens!  I  don't  know,"  the  master 
acknowledged. 

His  inelegant  rejoinder  brought  a  frown  to 
the  wife's  brow,  while  with  furtive  effort  to 
erase  the  etching  of  time  she  pressed  a  finger 
between  her  eyes.  Sue  Chang  had  kept  that 
wrinkle  faint  with  his  years  of  willing  service. 
The  poor  mistress  could  not  yet  face  conditions 
which  threatened  her  long  established  per 
sonal  freedom.  Domestic  lethargy,  following 
Chang's  return  to  America  after  his  last  visit 
to  China,  had  continued  five  years.  During 
all  that  time  Celestial  magic  "made  the  wheels 
go  'round"  without  the  usual  grind  of  daily 


150       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

effort,  and,  as  never  before,  the  lady  rebelled 
within  herself.  She  had  shirked  her  kitchen 
so  long  that,  to-day,  she  refused  to  anticipate 
an  aftermath  of  domestic  opportunity.  She 
was  very  low  in  spirit. 

"I  just  couldn't  believe  in  our  possible  loss," 
she  said  at  last.  "I  wished  to  be  blind  to 
Chang's  eventual  departure.  And  now  the 
thing  we  dreaded  has  happened." 

"You  are  not  progressive,"  her  husband 
answered. 

"I  am  not,"  she  acknowledged,  "at  least  in 
regard  to  Chang's  wild  dream.  The  peace  of 
Temple  Hill  will  be  lost  when  he  goes  and,  be 
sides,  he  will  starve  in  China  without  his  round 
monthly  wages." 

"How  mercenary!"  the  master  jested. 

She  ignored  his  remark.  "I  felt  after 
Chang's  last  visit  to  China  that  he  was  very 
much  changed,"  she  confessed.  "I  would  not 
own  to  what  I  really  thought ;  but  I  know  now 
that  our  Yellow  Angel  moulted  during  that 
year  only  to  grow  fresh  wings  for  an  uncertain 
flight.  Do  you  not  remember  that  he  hinted 


HIS  DREAM  151 

for  increased  wages?  Almost  at  once — just 
after  he  fed  the  pigeons  and  had  taken  stock 
of  hens  in  the  corral. "  She  laughed  at  the  ir 
resistible  picture. 

"He  seemed  just  like  any  poor,  overstrained 
family-man  bowed  down  with  responsibility. 
He  wanted  extra  wages,  yet  was  afraid  to  ask 
for  anything  until  he  had  made  clear  the  new 
conditions  of  his  awakened  country.  'Velly 
much  more  expense — back  China,'  he  an 
nounced  dejectedly — quite  like  a  feeler — 
watching  to  see  the  effect  of  his  words.  Then, 
too,"  she  went  on,  "as  usual,  his  wife  was  be 
coming  like  other  women ;  learning  how  to  de 
mand  more  and  more  each  day.  Poor  old 
Chang  had  my  sympathy  at  once.  He  ex 
plained  with  pride  that  his  son's  education  was 
costing  seventy  dollars  a  year,  whereas  the 
boy  formerly  received  instruction  for  a  thou 
sand  pennies — the  equivalent  of  a  dollar  in 
United  States  coin.  The  promising  young  son 
of  Heaven  now  attended  a  boarding-school 
which,  in  time,  would  doubtless  fit  him  for  a 
place  in  the  forthcoming  Chinese  Eepublic. 


152       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Dreams!  Dreams!  How  could  our  poor  Yel 
low  Angel  have  grown  so  bold  in  one  short 
year?" 

"Why  not?"  the  master  ventured. 

"Alas!  Chang's  son  of  Heaven  was  born  too 
soon,"  she  answered  with  a  frown.  "If  the 
Chinese  Republic  lives  to  escape  the  greed  of 
attacking  Powers,  it  will  take  a  century,  at 
least,  to  evolve  statesmen  from  the  Coolie 
caste." 

"Poor  Chinks!  from  chop-sticks  to  the  ad 
ministrative  gavel  will  make  an  interesting 
story,"  her  husband  declared. 

"Yes,"  she  agreed,  "and  Chang  will  never 
know  the  real  ending,  unless  it  is  a  sad  one 
coming  all  too  soon.  However,  he  is  like  all 
reformers — blind  to  possible  failure.  His 
faith  in  the  new  Republic  is  beautiful.  He 
feels  like  a  free-born  man.  I  shall  never  for 
get  his  almost  imperceptible  challenge  when 
he  last  arrived  from  China,  after  his  second- 
class  voyage  aboard  the  ocean-liner.  You  see, 
it  was  a  first  experience  above  the  very  depths 
of  the  ship ;  yet,  because  of  earlier  abasement, 
he  held  steerage  passengers  in  contempt.  I 


HIS  DREAM  153 

remember  he  announced  that  he  had  crossed 
with  great  comfort ;  and,  as  you  know,  his  oil 
cloth  traveling  suit  had  become  a  joke  of  the 
past."  She  smiled  at  a  mental  picture. 

"While  his  advent  was  reassuring,  there  was 
withal  a  dire  threat  in  his  new  bearing,"  she 
confessed.  "It  was  plain  to  us  both  that  evo 
lution  marked  the  Yellow  Angel's  year  of  ab 
sence  from  Temple  Hill.  He  did  not  seem 
to  be  the  same  beaming  Chang  of  old.  At  the 
time  I  felt  all  that  I  have  been  telling  you, 
although  I  did  not  quite  understand  the  influ 
ence  of  the  Chinese  Reform  Party,  which  was 
secretly  preparing  alien  sons  for  the  birth  of 
the  Republic.  Chang  had  even  then  begun  to 
be  cross  with  the  inhuman  policy  of  the  United 
States.  He  felt  the  unjust  discrimination  be 
tween  the  Japanese  and  his  own  more  timid 
race  as  he  sadly  related  his  troubles. 

"  'You  see/  he  deplored,  'I  just  poor  China 
man!  I  sure  my  wife — my  son — never  be  let 
come  this  country.  United  States  not  fair  to 
China ! '  Then  he  told  again  of  official  compli 
cations  for  his  countrymen.  At  last  there  was 
defiance  in  his  voice.  'Those  Japs  sneak 


154       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

women  in  all  time,'  he  bitterly  complained. 
*  Sixty  Jap  women  get  in  last  week.  Good 
Chinaman  can  not  bring  he  wife — he  little  son. 
Good  Chinaman  not  be  much  better  than  dog. 
What  we  stay  these  United  States  for?  We 
not  citizen!  Jus'  poor  Chinaman.  One  night 
I  see  fire!  House  blaze  up  terrible.  I  tell 
those  people;  work  hard  myself — help  save 
furniture.  No  one  thank  me.  All  those  years 
I  stay  United  States,  I  do  no  harm.  I  like 
any  man — but  cannot  be  citizen. '  The  Yel 
low  Angel's  complaint  fell  naturally  from  her 
lips. 

"Poor  old  ChanJ  was  almost  surly  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life,"  she  went  on,  as  she 
raised  the  lid  of  her  desk  and  took  out  a  letter. 
She  held  it  with  retrospective  pleasure  while 
she  again  strove  to  round  out  her  Celestial's 
simple  story.  "A  good  Chinaman  is  like  a 
good  child,"  she  declared,  "only  naughty  when 
he  is  treated  unfairly.  Chang  forgot  his 
anger  just  as  soon  as  I  expressed  sympathy, 
and  later  I  heard  him  calling  to  the  pigeons. 
Nature  always  seems  to  come  to  his  rescue 


HIS   DREAM  155 

when  the  combined  insults  of  men  threaten  to 
make  him  hard." 

She  opened  the  yellow  envelope.  "Listen," 
she  commanded.  '  *  I  am  going  to  read  Chang's 
epistle  to  Temple  Hill ;  the  one  he  wrote  from 
China — five  years  ago.  Listen :  then  doubt  if 
you  can  our  Yellow  Angel's  wings.  Surely 
his  place  in  the  new  Republic — among  the 
'sons  of  the  morning' — is  assured."  She 
spread  out  the  characteristic  letter,  indited 
with  great  pains  on  ruled  lines  of  cheap  Ameri 
can  writing-paper. 

"  'To  those  kind  flend  your  Grace — all  same 
that  Temple  Hill — I  now  must  addless  those 
glad  word  from  China. 

"  'I  be  home  most  six  month.  This  summer 
velly  hot — better  now.  I  think  about  that 
Temple  Hill  velly  much.  My  wife  my  son  all 
well — happy  I  come.  I  tell  all  about  United 
State — that  nice  Temple  Hill.  My  People 
hearken  so  glad. 

"  'I  tell  all  that  kindness  I  have  those  many 
year.  Hoy  Pring  District  have  big  flood — 
wash  many  house  away.  My  house  have  water 


156       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

ten  feet  deep — no  of  danger  much  to  us — we 
get  safe.    Now  Poor  People  have  hard  time. 

"  'Hope  our  Lord  our  Spirits  staying — we 
soon  look  alound  and  smile — be  careful  to 
maintain  clistian  good  work.  I  will  come  back 
that  Temple  Hill  next  year  of  March.  I  hope 
those  pigeon  not  fly  away  fore  I  come. 

"  'From  truly 

"'Sue  Chang/" 

The  impressive  lines  of  the  message  had  evi 
dently  been  appropriated  from  the  Mission 
school  copy-book ;  but  the  delicate  taste  which 
selected  them  was  but  another  proof  of  Celes 
tial  evolution.  The  mistress  of  the  Hill  sighed 
as  she  folded  the  letter.  She  sadly  tucked  it 
into  her  desk. 

"Let  it  remain  with  the  family  archives 
in  view  of  a  day  of  sour  bread  and  lamenta 
tion,"  her  husband  advised. 

She  would  not  smile,  while  the  faint  line 
deepened  between  her  eyes.  The  master  pro 
duced  a  cigar  with  exasperating  composure, 
then  strolled  away.  The  wife,  left  alone,  be 
came  unreasonable.  Her  mind  evoked  rebel 
lion.  What  right  had  a  man  to  soothe  anxiety 


HIS   DREAM  157 

and  ill-fortune  by  deliberately  giving  up  to 
the  influence  of  a  narcotic?  She  told  herself 
that  even  criminals,  about  to  be  hanged, 
achieved  savoir  faire  after  an  indulgent  smoke. 
Masculine  advantage  still  intruded  in  her 
thoughts  as  she  went  from  the  house  with  in 
consistent  wish  to  find  her  husband.  On  the 
terrace  the  scent  of  his  cigar  drew  her  onward 
to  where  he  stood  talking  to  the  gardener. 
Her  own  little  hoe  leaned  against  a  tree  and 
she  caught  it  up  with  a  childish  desire  to  dig 
into  something  near  at  hand.  But  to  prod  the 
earth  was  not  enough  and  she  returned  to  the 
terrace.  .  Here  she  might  brood  imminent  mis 
fortune  with  wicked  realization  of  the  acute 
test  in  store  for  her  spouse  when  once  Sue 
Chang  had  really  gone  and  the  new  cook  made 
sodamint  tablets  an  after-dinner  contingency. 
Then  suddenly,  all  outside  of  the  Yellow 
Angel's  actual  loss,  she  became  fascinated  by 
the  clear  facts  of  his  evolution.  Soon, Chang 
would  go  to  his  own  home  a  new  man — with 
new  ideals.  She  fancied  him  the  first  mayor 
of  Hoy  Pring!  What  reforms  might  he  not 
institute  ?  He  had  already  rebuilt  his  own 


158       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

house  with  a  view  to  ventilation  and  sanitation. 
During  his  last  stay  in  China  he  advocated 
strange  methods  in  modern  life.  The  neigh 
bors  who  helped  him  to  cut  windows  in  his  lit 
tle  dwelling  had  been  rewarded  at  the  end  of 
a  day's  labor  with  a  feast  of  fat  things;  a  pig, 
ducks,  chickens  and  sweet  potatoes,  all  roasted 
with  juicy  significance  in  a  deep  bed  of  hot 
stones,  for  the  same  willing  friends  who, 
sooner  or  later,  must  understand  necessary 
changes  which  at  the  time  seemed  to  be  quite 
useless.  The  mistress  of  the  Hill  could  im 
agine  the  scene.  Sue  Chang  had  held  his 
guests  spell-bound  while  he  advocated  revolt 
from  Manchu  power  and  told  of  a  formulated 
government  secretly  breeding  independence 
through  the  faraway  Chinese  Reform  Party 
of  the  United  States.  At  the  end  of  the  day, 
some  of  the  older  men  went  away  muttering 
disapproval ;  but  the  youth  of  Hoy  Pring  were 
stirred  by  a  dream  of  liberty.  And  all  this 
had  taken  place  but  five  years  back.  Despite 
her  earlier  fears  for  the  new  Chinese  Repub 
lic  the  mistress  began  to  have  faith  in  its  soli- 


HIS   DEEAM  159 

darity.  Without  doubt  Sue  Chang  would  be 
elected  mayor  of  Hoy  Pring  district. 

In  fancy  she  saw  him  supported  by  his  own 
village — the  village  of  seventeen  families  all 
constituting  the  clan  of  Sue.  She  pictured  to 
herself  a  procession  of  queueless  Sues  led  by 
the  Yellow  Angel  arrayed  in  his  best  Ameri 
can  store  clothes  and  favorite  felt  Fedora. 
All  were  duly  headed  for  the  important  mar 
ket  town  of  the  province  in  question ;  and  she 
felt  an  imaginary  thrill  for  the  imaginary 
banner  of  old  Sue  Chang.  Then  her  interest 
went  back  logically  to  events  connected  with 
the  beginning  of  the  now  famous  Chinese  Ee- 
f  orm  Party  of  Los  Angeles. 

The  Yellow  Angel's  graphic  account  of  the 
first  awkward,  motley  drill  at  sunset,  when 
rich  Oriental  merchants  shouldered  muskets 
with  household  cooks,  laundrymen  and  vege 
table  vendors  in  the  old  quarter  beyond  the 
Plaza,  returned  to  her  mind  with  fresh  charm. 
The  picturesque  tragedy  of  the  queue  held  her 
once  more  as  she  recalled  the  transformation 
of  happy,  gaily  clad  Celestials  into  sober, 


160       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

badly  clothed  creatures  of  revolt.  For  irre 
spective  of  caste  or  calling,  yellow  men  of  the 
Eeform  Party  stood  as  "sheep  before  their 
shearers.''  Then  dumb,  doubtful  of  conse 
quences  in  the  old  home  beyond  the  Pacific, 
each  humble  son  of  progress  had  gone  his  sepa 
rate  way:  to  work,  to  save,  to  wait. 

By  degrees  the  old  quarter  of  Los  Angeles 
had  become  peopled  with  strange  Celestials 
in  strange  garb.  Amateur  barbers  flourished ; 
while  haberdashers  of  the  Plaza  learned  to 
treat  queueless  aliens  with  new  consideration. 
Pink  cotton  shirts  and  purple  four-in-hand 
neckties  marked  the  dudes  of  Chinatown  for 
fresh  distinction.  For  love  of  color  still 
mingled  with  the  despoiled  Celestial's  dreams 
of  the  fatherland.  His  taste  conventionalized 
slowly  and  it  was  hard  for  him  to  forget  the 
deep  blue,  the  delightful  green,  the  rich  laven 
der  or  the  glorious  rose-color  of  his  former 
holiday  attire.  But  at  length  the  stiff,  ill- 
fitting  suit  of  his  choice  sat  upon  him  with 
comfort.  The  yellow  man  of  the  Los  Angeles 
Quarter  was  dreaming  of  freedom  for  his  far 
away  old  land. 


HIS   DKEAM  161 

Soon  fresh  resolve  stirred  his  soul  while  dig 
nity  improved  his  bearing.  He  hardened  his 
heart  to  the  abject  claim  of  the  hated  Manchu 
Dynasty.  The  long-suffering  Chinaman  grew 
bold.  Li  Hung  Chang  and  other  great  men 
had  not  crossed  to  the  United  States  in  vain, 
and  finally  light  began  to  break  when  Dr.  Sun 
rose  as  day.  The  story  retold  itself  with  ir 
resistible  charm,  and  the  mistress  of  the  Hill 
was  at  last  ready  to  be  valiant;  to  forget  a 
personal  loss  in  the  not  distant  looming  of  Sue 
Chang's  independent  fortunes.  She  put  aside 
rebellion  to  enjoy  the  Yellow  Angel's  late 
apology. for  deserting  his  American  kitchen. 

"You  see,"  he  explained,  "I  must  go  home 
plitty  soon,  help  my  cluntry — tell  my  People 
never  let  those  wicked  Manchu  get  move  on 
any  more.  China  people — my  Province — 
Hoy  Pring — velly  scare  some  time.  They  not 
understand  new  Republic.  My  wife  cly  claus 
my  son  wear  that  American  shoe.  She  not 
cut  my  son  queue  till  I  say  she  must.  She  feel 
all  same  you,  when  gland-son  get  curls  cut  off.. ' ' 

He  went  on  with  increasing  pride  in  his  off 
spring.  "I  think  plaps — some  day — my  son 


162       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

go  Chinese  Congress.  What  you  think?  I 
spose  you  laugh — say  big  joke!  I  tell  you 
Chinese  Republic  no  joke.  That  Chinese  peo 
ple  suffer  all  those  many  years — can  not  look 
up  and  smile — claus  those  wicked  Manchu. 
Now  we  tell  Manchu  go  off — die!  We  spare 
their  life — let  them  be  ploud — make  silly  court 
like  children :  we  no  care.  We  see  light !  We 
know  that  Republic  sure  bling  joy;  give  us 
blessing.  We  say  be  patient.  We  say  long 
time  'fore  all  those  poor  people  understand. 
Some  time  all  fight!  Sometime  velly  hard 
time!  Some  time  many  be  hungry — say 
Chinese  Republic  no  good.  Some  time  those 
other  Powers,  that  Russia,  that  Japan,  like  to 
steal  much  land  from  old  China;  say  we  not 
powerful — cannot  protect  ourselves.  We  see 
this — but  no  can  help.  We  jus'  pray  God — be 
stlong.  After  while  everyone  be  satisfy — say 
Chinese  Republic  can  not  get  bust.  Those 
Manchu  all  shut  up — not  talk  much — jus'  pray 
idols,  be  sad.  Chinamen  not  that  way  any 
more.  Chinamen  be  men!  Long  time  I  say, 
'fore  China  be  all  same  United  States.  Flaps 
I  not  see :  my  son  see  sure.  After  while  China 


HIS  DREAM  163 

boys  get  educate — learn  about  many  things; 
not  let  those  robbers  ruin  country.  Now 
everything  upset — many  bad  men  steal!  kill! 
make  poor  young  girls  all  same  slave.  Flaps 
plitty  soon,  rich  'Melican  men  go  over  China ; 
help  clean  out  those  robbers,  all  same  lions. 
Plitty  good  hunting,  shoot  robbers,  I  think." 

He  smiled  grimly  and  went  on  to  elucidate 
some  of  the  more  barbarous  practices  of  his 
country. 

"You  see,  those  robbers  jus'  horrible! 
They  come  down  like  wolf — steal  everything 
poor  people  have.  Some  day  Republic  stop 
that  nonsense,  kill  every  one  jus'  like  gopher." 
His  fancy  seemed  to  desert  the  king  of  beasts 
in  view  of  California's  underground  pest.  As 
he  gazed  across  the  lawn  to  where  the  gardener 
was  setting  traps  for  offenders  below  the  turf, 
he  frowned.  "I  gless  'Melican  hunters  must 
go  that  old  China.  Some  things  no  use — some 
people  not  any  good — jus'  bad  like  Devil — like 
gopher.  Some  day  bad  people  get  fire  out; 
len  China  have  light.  Las'  month  I  give  fifty 
dollar — all  my  wages — help  that  new  Republic. 
General  Lan  come  Los  Angeles  tell  every  one 


do  that.  He  say  Republic  must  have  money 
— not  be  disgrace  like  Manchus." 

The  spirit  of  the  millenium  transfixed  his 
thoughts.  Progress  for  old  China  blazed  in 
his  imagination  and  he  smiled. 

"I  stay  this  Temple  Hill  long  time,"  he  de 
clared.  "I  stay  so  long  I  see — I  know  my 
cluntry  wake  up.  That  old  wall  'lound  China 
get  pull  down  so  people  can  have  nice  auto 
mobile  road.  Hope  you  family  come  over — 
take  long  ride."  He  was  determined  to  air 
enlightened  standards.  Progress  stirred  his 
soul. 

"My  bludder — that  cook  up  San  Berdoo,  not 
be  like  me,"  he  coolly  announced.  "My  blud 
der  cut  off  queue  but  no  can  understand.  He 
not  have  light.  Las*  time  my  bludder  go  home 
China  he  buy  he  oldest  son  new  young  wife — 
claus  that  first  wife  have  four  daughter — only 
one  son.  He  say  he  want  that  son's  first  old 
wife  be  shame — feel  bad.  I  think  that  mean. 
I  not  do  that  way.  My  wife  bling  me  one  son 
— I  satisfy.  Some  day  I  hope  my  son  grow  up 
be  good  man — serve  China — help  he  cluntry: 
have  light.  Now  plitty  soon  I  go  home — not 


HIS  DEEAM  165 

come  United  States  any  more.  I  say  God  bless 
Temple  Hill :  God  bless  that  new  Chinese  Re 
public.  ' ' 

He  linked  us  as  a  family  with  the  uncertain 
destinies  of  his  nation.  Chang's  Valedictory 
was  delivered;  and  again  the  mistress  knew 
that  his  Swan  Song  would  soon  be  heard.  She 
appeared  to  see  a  ship  sailing  slowly  away. 
But  at  last  she  felt  resigned.  For  the  first 
time,  she  was  able  to  regard  the  Yellow  Angel's 
flight  with  composure.  Shining  promises  of 
the  Chinese  Republic  admonished  her  to  forget 
self,  in  view  of  universal  uplift.  Suddenly 
wings  brushed  the  air  above  her.  She  looked 
up  to  see  a  flock  of  doves — Sue  Chang's  doves 
— flash  against  the  sky.  The  snow-white 
leader  headed  west,  against  the  fire  of  the  sun, 
dropping  down  to  old  China.  A  trade-wind 
swayed  treetops  where  leaves,  darkly  bronzed 
with  evening,  all  whispered,  "Sue  Chang!" 
Summer  haze  overhanging  the  mountains — 
Sue  Chang's  mountains — merged  into  blue, 
then  to  purple,  that  quickly  blent  all  tones  to 
deep,  religious  rose.  On  highest  peaks  and 
distant  snow-caps  the  glow  of  evening  lingered. 


166       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Temple  Hill,  for  so  many  years  the  alien's 
home,  seemed  to  be  tempting  him  from  every 
side;  or  was  it  Nature's  tribute  to  faithful 
service  and  a  happy  dream  of  the  new  Chinese 
Republic  ? 


HEATHEN  TALES  OF  THE  QUARTER 


THE  REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE 

IN  the  shop  of  Woo-Ho-Kee,  curio  merchant, 
Hop  Lee  dusted  the  wares  of  Canton. 
The  handsome  young  celestial  had  but  recently 
returned  from  a  visit  to  slow  old  China. 
Again  his  blood  flowed  swiftly,  while  his  heart 
responded  to  the  fresh  thrill  of  republican 
environment.  It  was  good  to  be  once  more  in 
the  blessed  United  States  of  America.  Hop's 
movements  were  joyous,  denoting  a  personal 
interest,  not  entirely  covered  by  the  jars  and 
punch  bowls  of  his  employer.  In  the  morning 
sunlight  his  green  feather  brush  flashed  reck 
lessly,  tickling  portraits  of  Manchu  officials 
and  haughty  mandarins  with  cool  unconcern. 
Painted  on  tall  vases  were  bright  women; 
doubtless  the  artist's  ideal  of  belles  of  the  royal 
harem.  To-day  the  young  celestial  was 
strangely  unmoved  by  glowing  suggestions  of 
imperial  bliss.  High  life  in  the  Flowery 
Kingdom  no  longer  held  his  fancy.  He  was 

169 


170       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

not  even  thinking  of  his  lately  espoused  wife, 
now  dutifully  bequeathed  to  her  mother-in- 
law  in  far  Tien-Tsin.  Yoc,  budding  lotus 
flower!  only  girl  child  of  Woo-Ho-Kee,  filled 
his  heart.  The  plain-faced  one,  the  unwelcome 
incumbrance,  the  lily-footed  hobbler  of  a 
distant  land,  claimed  his  thoughts  only 
through  impatient  sighs  and  stern  celestial 
honor. 

The  year  before  good-looking  Hop  had  been 
called  across  the  Pacific  to  claim  his  waiting 
bride.  An  Imperial  edict  had  gone  forth,  and 
procrastinating  prodigals,  enjoying  life  in  far 
countries,  were  ordered  home  to  redeem  their 
pledges  of  long  standing.  The  child  wives  had 
fully  matured ;  time  was  ripe  for  a  fresh  crop 
of  nuptials.  Hop's  aging  mother  clamored 
for  a  new  daughter-in-law.  His  father  plead 
in  eloquent  characters,  commanding  the  son's 
return  to  a  waiting  wedding  feast.  Both 
parents  refused  to  accept  apostate  regrets,  for 
the  celestial  fiat  had  gone  forth.  Hop  must 
come  home,  or  cruelly  dishonor  the  ancestral 
tablet  of  his  house. 

The  lines  had  been  hard  ones  for  the  boy. 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    171 

For  a  time  the  final  decision  wavered.  Still 
dawning  republican  principles  and  partly 
broken  down  superstitions  could  not  quite 
vanquish  yellow  ghosts  of  forty  centuries. 
Unrelenting  spooks  waved  him  forward,  and 
at  last  he  understood  that  he  must  take  sad 
farewell  of  gay  Los  Angeles,  of  Woo-Ho-Kee, 
and  of  Yoc,  the  lotus  bud  of  the  bright  celestial 
quarter.  With  a  sinking  soul  Hop  drew  from 
the  savings  bank  half  of  a  snug  little  fortune. 
His  feet  felt  heavy;  dragging  wretchedly 
whenever  he  thought  of  the  journey  across  the 
Pacific.  The  half- Americanized  boy  of  the 
Orient  loved  the  land  of  his  adoption.  A  mis 
sion  school  had  broadened  the  celestial  angle  of 
vision,  while  his  awakening  mind  hopelessly 
repudiated  the  claims  of  unreasonable,  dead 
head  ancestors.  Hop  was  no  longer  a  loyal 
heathen;  yet  might  not  escape  the  law  of  his 
father  and  mother  at  the  other  side  of  the 
world.  He  dared  not  be  a  shame  to  the  old 
country.  Even  the  tempting  voice  of  Yoc 
must  not  detain  him.  The  thought  tore  his  en 
lightened  breast,  yet  forced  him  forward  to  an 
unsought  bride. 


172       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

In  the  middle  of  the  Pacific  Ocean  poor  Hop 
cursed  his  ancestors  to  no  avail.  They  had 
undone  him;  and  he  was  bounding  miles  and 
miles  away  from  the  " lotus  bud";  from  the 
blessed,  free  United  States.  The  young 
Chinaman  remembered,  with  bitterness,  that 
his  mission  school  teacher  had  advised  him  to 
cut  loose  from  heathen  obligations  and  false 
superstitions.  Alas !  it  was  too  late.  He  had 
foolishly  tampered  with  wise  counsel;  had 
been  a  coward  before  the  yellow  ghosts  of  cen 
turies.  The  promptings  of  a  celestial  con 
science  had  ruined  him.  He  had  kept  the 
great  commandment  of  Confucius:  had 
honored  his  father  and  his  mother. 

"You  are  a  Christian.  Christians  live  with 
their  wives.  You  should  marry  a  Christian 
girl  and  support  her  in  Los  Angeles,"  his  mis 
sion  instructor  had  carefully  explained. 

At  the  time  the  boy  longed  to  accept  an  en 
trancing  program.  Blooming  Yoc  danced  be 
fore  his  eyes;  but  a  lingering  fear  of  dis 
honored,  angry  ancestors  held  him  down.  He 
answered  firmly  but  sadly  that  obedience  to 


parents  has  been  the  religious  etiquette  of 
China  for  thousands  of  years.  Afterward,  on 
an  aching  back  in  the  depths  of  the  steerage, 
he  vividly  recalled  his  last  vain  attempt  to 
escape  the  hard  commands  of  his  family.  He 
remembered  again  and  again  how  he  had  told 
his  teacher  of  his  bitter  trouble.  In  a  torrent 
of  impassioned  "  pidgin  English "  he  had  kept 
back  nothing,  blindly  hoping  that  she  would 
perform  a  miracle  and  save  him  at  the  last 
moment. 

"I  no  care  get  mally — way  back  China,"  he 
had  cried  half  desperately. 

But  the  woman  waited  for  him  to  finish, 
doubtless  with  a  view  to  Celestial  psychology 
— and  honest  Hop  had  rushed  on  with  un 
answerable  logic:  " China  son  must  obey 
parents.'7 

She  was  still  silent. 

"No  good,  I  tink,  have  wife  udder  side  big 
ocean.  Plitty  soon  come  these  United  States 
— send  money  home  all  time !  Be  heap  bloke ! 
I  solly  I  get  mally.  My  parents  say  I  come 
home — I  must  go.  My  mudder  old — she  likey 


my  wife  work  for  her.  I  no  likey  shame  my 
kluntry — my  family.  All  same  I  Clistian — 
Ples-by-te-ri-an  Clistian,  sure  pop!" 

Through  a  miserable  voyage  that  followed, 
Hop  innocently  wondered  about  his  teacher's 
answering  smile.  Why  had  its  radiance 
dashed  his  hopes  and  virtually  signed  his  pass 
port  to  China  I  The  woman  he  trusted  had  not 
tried  to  dispute  heathen  ethics.  She  had  per 
mitted  Confucius  to  win  out.  Her  maddening 
smile  of  approval  had  been  Hop 's  only  recom 
pense  for  a  difficult,  burning  disclosure.  He 
recalled  his  disappointment,  the  tear  on  his 
yellow  cheek,  the  lump  in  his  throat.  Duty 
pointed  to  the  East,  and  later  he  departed 
from  the  curio  shop  of  Woo-Ho-Kee  with  his 
bundle  strapped  for  the  San  Francisco  liner. 
Then  again,  in  the  bottom  of  the  deep  ship  all 
seemed  very  sad,  while  hardest  and  cruelest 
of  recollections  were  the  last  whispered  words 
of  Yoc,  the  lotus  bud.  Mght  and  day  the  boy 
heard  her  cooing  command : 

"You  come  back  United  States!  America. 
United  States  America  more  better!  China 
no  good!" 


REDEMPTION  OF   HOP  LEE    175 

Then  she  suddenly  dropped  her  velvet  eye 
lids,  and  miserable  Hop  had  hurried  from  her 
presence  knowing  too  well  the  pangs  of  gnaw 
ing  passion.  All  the  way  to  China  he  felt  the 
magic  of  the  girl's  ravishing  gaze.  The  de 
mure  falling  of  her  soft  Celestial  eye-curtains 
was  like  the  opening  and  shutting  of  morning 
glories.  Every  hour  the  thought  of  his  un 
sought  bride  grew  more  intolerable. 

"I  no  likey  go !"  he  sorrowfully  owned  as  he 
sailed  forward  to  the  beck  of  long  dead  an 
cestors. 

The  voyage  across  the  Pacific  was  eminently 
sacrificial.  Earlier  heathen  superstitions 
seemed  to  take  hold  of  him  while  his  inwards 
tore  with  pains.  Insulted  gods  sought  to  can 
cel  apostasy.  The  depths  of  the  steerage 
heard  his  helpless  groans,  and  two  moons  shone 
full  and  waned  before  he  reached  his  native 
land. 

Here  he  passed  a  long  year  of  dutiful  com 
pliance  to  the  will  of  parents ;  then  one  day  he 
was  ready  to  return  to  America,  the  country 
of  white  devils  and  money.  For  the  departing 
husband  must  send  back  gold.  The  young 


176       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

wife  left  to  the  tender  mercies  of  her  mother- 
in-law  dared  not  complain  and  Hop  was  free 
for  the  next  five  years. 

He  awakened,  light  and  hopeful,  from  a 
sound  sleep,  on  his  first  night  at  sea.  Waves 
no  longer  tossed  his  soul ;  and  he  was  speeding 
back  to  the  United  States  of  America.  Los 
Angeles'  Chinatown  was  before  him!  His 
dark  old  land  was  now  behind  the  ship.  Pity 
for  his  country  filled  his  heart  with  comfor 
table  sighs ;  but  he  felt  that  he  had  gone  out  of 
it  forever. 

"They  heap  no  see.  My  nation  all  dark," 
he  muttered  as  he  hailed  once  more  the  land 
of  light  and  freedom. 

For  at  last  Hop  beheld  the  outline  of  "The 
Golden  Gate" — San  Francisco  lay  beyond. 
The  return  voyage  had  been  accomplished. 
After  a  few  days  spent  in  quarantine,  he  was 
again  on  the  outskirts  of  Los  Angeles,  city  of 
the  happy  alien.  Soon — too  soon,  he  forgot 
his  matrimonial  shackles.  The  filth,  the  pov 
erty  and  the  noise  of  Tien-Tsin  vanished  from 
his  mind,  while  his  hand  went  out  to  cordial, 
chattering  friends.  Yes,  the  Celestial  quarter 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    177 

was  the  same  delightful  place,  still  winking  to 
the  ancient  Plaza  through  rows  of  red  lanterns 
and  twinkling  electric  lights. 

Hop  half  doubted  that  he  had  been  away. 
When  once  more  he  dusted  the  rich  wares  of 
Canton  in  the  curio  store  of  Woo-Ho-Kee,  the 
zenith  of  his  republican  pride  was  reached. 
How  good  it  all  seemed !  Even  one  week  in  the 
prosperous  shop  spanned  the  hateful  year  of 
absence.  Few  changes  had  taken  place  among 
the  curios.  Rows  of  stately  vases,  punch  bowls 
and  jars  dazzled  as  usual ;  but  before  the  glass 
showcase  stood  Yoc!  Just  turned  sixteen,  a 
year  of  quick  blooming  had  urged  the  lotus  bud 
into  a  half-blown  flower.  She  was  at  last  per 
mitted  to  help  in  the  store,  for  sharp  Woo-Ho- 
Kee  observed  that  few  tourists  tried  to  resist 
his  daughter's  winning  way  and  charming  pid 
gin  English.  Already  the  girl  was  making 
pretty  eyes  at  half-distracted  Hop.  As  she 
arranged  beautiful  embroideries,  her  black 
lashes  fell  and  rose  with  cruel  disregard  for 
the  interests  of  a  forsaken  wife. 

The  girl  had  Americanized  in  many  ways. 
At  the  mission  school  she  was  now  the  star. 


178       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Ever  since  Hop's  return,  curiosity  had  strug 
gled  with  Yoc's  pride;  she  longed  to  know  the 
truth  about  the  absent  wife,  and  at  length  the 
opportunity  came,  when  a  watchful  mother 
one  day  vanished  to  the  rear  of  the  house. 
Woo-Ho-Kee  was  long  upon  the  street.  Only 
two  little  brothers  fluttered  about,  like  gay 
parrakeets  loosed  from  a  cage.  In  yellow 
trouserettes  and  green  over  jackets  they  flashed 
between  curio  tables  with  reckless  speed ;  then 
Toy,  first  born,  took  a  header  into  a  pile  of 
lacquer  boxes.  Yoc  found  an  excuse  for  cross 
ing  the  room,  while  into  screams  of  the  heaven 
sent  boy  she  sank  her  low  sweet  voice,  implor 
ing  willing  Hop  with  all  the  coquetry  of  fall 
ing  eyelids. 

Yoc  was  proud  of  her  "  America  speech." 
She  loved  to  address  Chinese  men  in  English 
and  in  Hop's  case  it  was  really  necessary. 
The  Celestial  employed  by  her  Cantonese  fa 
ther  was  one  of  the  few  aliens  hailing  from 
the  North  of  China.  Yoc  could  not  quite  un 
derstand  Hop's  dialect,  and  for  this  reason 
she  aired  her  English  with  elegance.  When 
the  lotus  blossom  spoke  she  was  doubly  danger- 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    179 

ous.  Her  personality  was  ethereal.  She 
seemed  ready  to  float,  as  she  lifted  and  drooped 
the  creamy  lids  of  dream-eyes.  She  was  now 
speaking  close  into  Hop 's  ear.  Her  voice  was 
music,  her  young  breath  as  the  opening  of 
flowers. 

"I  glad  you  come  back  these  United  States 
of  America,"  she  confided ;  then  again  the  wild 
rage  of  the  first-born  interfered.  Toy,  "  heav 
en-sent,"  was  upon  her.  Celestial  teeth 
ground  the  flesh  of  her  little  hand,  and  in  vain 
she  tried  to  hold  him  down  by  the  folds  of  his 
gorgeous  robe. 

1  i  Blad,  blad  boy ! ' '  she  shrieked.  i  i  I  tell  you 
f adder!  You  get  out  you  tooth!" 

Hop  rushed  to  the  rescue  only  to  find  the 
angry  son  of  Heaven  an  imp  in  training. 
Blows  rained  on  the  lotus  blossom's  face ;  while 
with  dragon-like  fury,  a  pair  of  Celestial  heels 
rose  high  in  air.  Unwary  Hop  caught  the  full 
force  of  god-like  displeasure  upon  the  bridge 
of  his  nose ;  then  in  the  same  second  a  fine  vase 
fell  crashing  to  the  floor. 

Toy,  the  Celestial  parrakeet,  was  free! 
Screeching  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  he  fled,  vie- 


180       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

toriously  flanked  by  his  smaller  brother.  Now 
both  the  boys  reviled  from  afar.  With 
thumbs  attached  to  round  little  noses,  twenty 
heaven-born  fingers  wagged  scorn  at  their  fa 
ther's  underling. 

"You  dirty  Hop!"  the  first-born  sang,  and 
at  once  a  cherubic  chorus  rent  the  air.  "You 
get  bounce!  You  old  nasty  Hop — you  blake 
my  f  adder  ting. ' '  Again  the  little  green  broth 
ers  cried,  "You  get  bounce!"  The  entire  vo 
cabulary  of  insulting  pidgin  English  would 
doubtless  have  been  exhausted  had  not  the 
sound  of  firecrackers  in  the  street  caught  the 
ears  of  the  leader.  The  siege  was  raised. 

Angry  Yoc  and  miserable  Hop  were  deliv 
ered.  As  the  two  parrakeets  fluttered  through 
the  door,  the  sister's  shrill  voice  followed  the 
gorgeous  scamps  in  vain.  Suddenly  her  vel 
vet  eyelids  drooped  with  sympathy. 

"You  feel  velly  blad?"  she  asked. 

"I  no  care — I  pay,"  Hop  replied.  He 
stooped  and  picked  up  the  pieces  of  the  broken 
vase  in  sullen  wrath. 

"Let  me — hep — you,"  Yoc  besought. 

A  flower  fastened  at  the  side  of  her  glossy, 


BEDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    181 

beautifully-dressed  hair  brushed  the  Celestial's 
queue. 

"I  tell  my  f adder  not  get  heap  mad.  I  say 
my  bludder,  Toy,  mean,  blad  boy.  I  say  he 
blite  me,  kick  you — len  vase  all  bloke."  She 
smiled  encouragingly.  "You  sure  glad  you 
come  back  these  United  States  of  America'? 
America  more  better — China  no  good.  I  heap 
glad  I  not  go  back  China,  live  my  mudder-in- 
law !  My  teacher  say  girl  have  heap  blad  time 
back  China.  I  go  school — learn  much !  Have 
heap  flun  these  United  States." 

The  spirit  of  the  new  Celestial  woman  pos 
sessed  her  and  she  rushed  on  to  the  subject  dis 
turbing  her  daily  thoughts  and  midnight  mus 
ings. 

"You  not  tell  me  how  you  wife  back  China, 
heap  bu-ti-ful?"  she  pressed  the  question 
softly.  Creamy  cheeks  took  on  the  tinge  of 
ripe  pomegranates.  Her  eyelids  fell,  and  she 
waited  breathlessly  for  Hop's  answer — too 
slow  in  coming.  Then  she  resorted  to  fresh 
tactics. 

"I  glad  you  get  mally  back  China!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  get  mally  plitty  soon  myself. 


182       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

My  f adder  catch  heap  lich  man  for  me ! "  She 
tossed  her  smooth,  dark  head  defiantly,  and 
this  time  the  flower  brushed  Hop's  trembling 
ear.  A  tormenting  vision  of  the  plain-faced 
bride  in  far  Tien-Tsin  wrinkled  his  brow  and 
sharpened  his  breath.  Stifled  sighs  cut  his 
throat  with  hopeless  passion  for  the  only 
daughter  of  Woo-Ho-Kee. 

"Why  you  not  tell  me  stay  these  United 
States  of  America?"  he  fiercely  demanded. 
"I  likey  you  be  my  wife,  but  now  you  no  can. 
You  all  same  angel.  I  sick  inside  my  heart !" 

Yoc's  soft  eyelids  lifted  slowly,  while  their 
dreamy  slanting  range  seemed  to  send  forth 
heavenly  sorrow.  At  last  a  gleam  of  triumph 
crept  into  her  dark  pupils.  Hop  had  betrayed 
his  secret.  The  bride  of  Tien-Tsin  was  un 
loved  !  detested  of  her  husband. 

'  '  I  solly  you  no  happy, ' '  she  whispered.  '  *  I 
bet  you  like  China  girl  all  same  me  ?  I  bet  you 
like  you  wife  live  these  United  States — Los 
An-ge-les. ' '  She  laughed  unconsciously  at  the 
picture.  "I  bet — "  two  rows  of  small  pearly 
teeth  parted  between  rich,  ripe  lips,  then 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    183 

clashed  in  sweet  confusion.  "I  bet — I  bet 
nutting — claus  I  just  heap  stupid." 

The  self-deprecating  etiquette  of  her  strange 
race  admonished  her  in  time,  and  she  went  on 
in  best  Chinese  form,  "I  tink  you  wife  way 
back  Tien-Tsin  heap  nice.  Me  just  ugly  girl 
— you  wife  more  better — she  heap  lovely!" 
The  rising  inflection  of  the  last  word  was 
adroitly  managed. 

Miserable  Hop  was  beside  himself  with  rage. 
A  flood  of  base  denial  rushed  to  his  lips. 

' '  I  no  care — . ' '  But  again  the  Celestial  par- 
rakeets  fluttered  through  the  sunlit  doorway. 
Woo-Ho-Kee,  their  father,  drove  them  for 
ward  with  angry  threats.  His  voice  was  loud, 
his  countenance  lowering.  Amid  sudden  con 
fusion,  the  lotus  blossom  floated  demurely 
across  the  room.  Innocent  eyelids  dropped 
once  more  upon  silken  embroideries  of  the 
showcase. 

Only  the  pomegranate  tinge  on  her  cheeks 
betrayed  Yoc's  secret.  None  would  have 
dreamed  that  the  heavenly  bud  was  paralyzed 
with  fear.  Then  her  father 's  angry  voice  bade 


184       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

her  return  to  her  mother.  The  moment  was 
awful,  and  the  girl  obeyed  slowly  without  look 
ing  up. 

Once  outside  in  the  narrow  passage  her  lit 
tle  ear  clung  to  the  keyhole.  What  would  hap 
pen  to  her?  Did  her  father,  Woo-Ho-Kee, 
know  of  her  debasement?  What  had  he 
heard?  She  listened  with  all  the  strength  of 
terrified  senses.  Now  Hop  had  crossed  the 
store.  The  two  men  were  talking  together  ex 
citedly.  A  few  Chinese  words  the  girl  caught 
and  interpreted  in  half  stupefied  horror. 
"Kill!  Boil  all  same  soup!  Scalding  oil! 
Peking!"  She  heard  no  more.  A  misty 
wave  spread  before  her;  velvet  eyelids  closed 
as  she  fell  senseless  to  the  floor.  The  dark 
head  struck  heavily  and  the  dull  thud  of  her 
body  brought  her  mother. 

Madam  Woo-Ho-Kee  dragged  her  daughter 
forward;  she  was  fond  of  doctoring  her  chil 
dren,  and  strangely  Yoc's  faint  did  not  alarm 
her.  Soon  the  girl  opened  her  eyes.  She  was 
now  lying  on  a  mat,  her  head  resting  on  a 
wooden  block.  The  mother  looked  down  at  her 
calmly,  holding  a  bowl  of  nauseous  medicine. 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    185 

The  outside  door  was  open  and  a  summer  sky 
crept  in,  while  into  its  cloudless  depths  Yoc 
gazed  wonderingly.  What  had  happened  to 
her?  Was  it  early  morning  or  night?  Her 
thoughts  rushed  back  to  the  awful  moment  of 
last  recollection.  How  long  had  she  slept? 
Was  the  dreadful  doom  of  Hop  Lee  accom 
plished?  Had  her  angry  father  fulfilled  his 
threat  and  heated  the  caldron  of  oil?  Poor 
Yoc  shivered,  then  sat  up  and  began  to  cry. 
Her  mother  forced  the  bowl  of  medicine  be 
tween  her  lips. 

"You  dlink!"  she  commanded. 

The  girl  obeyed  through  gulping  sobs.  On 
her  block  pillow  she  imagined  the  worst.  The 
full  play  of  a  half-civilized  fancy  quickened 
her  breathing.  Her  heart  leaped  outward 
while  she  began  to  listen  to  sounds  in  the  ad 
joining  shop.  Suspense  sharpened  her  ears 
until  she  seemed  to  hear  the  last  groans  of  ex 
piring  Hop.  His  execution  was  in  full  swing ! 
She  was  sure  of  it.  Noise  in  the  room  beyond 
increased  to  frenzy.  The  commotion  was  no 
longer  caused  by  Yoc 's  imagination.  Wild  Ce 
lestial  jargon  rent  the  air.  Cries  of  excited 


Chinamen  pierced  the  wall;  then  an  instant 
later  the  door  flew  back  and  Woo-Ho-Kee  with 
Hop  rushed  through. 

The  child  could  not  believe  her  eyes.  She 
sat  up  and  listened  to  strange  words  from  noisy 
men.  At  first  she  did  not  understand.  But 
by  degrees  the  truth  grew  plain.  England, 
Europe,  and  the  United  States  were  all  about 
to  declare  war  against  far-away  shut-in  old 
China.  Already  terrible  things  had  happened. 
Yoe  heard  about  the  Forbidden  City  and  a 
band  of  murderers,  called  Boxers,  that  had 
long  been  nurtured  by  the  Empress.  The  men 
had  learned  a  cut-throat  trade,  to  rush  forth 
in  the  Flowery  Kingdom  to  kill  Missionaries 
and  foreign  visitors  were  dead.  The  Boxers 
condemned  all  at  will,  until  finally  reaching  im 
perial  Peking  they  had  first  confined,  then  hor 
ribly  murdered  the  foreign  legationists  of  the 
world.  The  awful  atrocity  was  now  a  theme 
for  civilized  tongues.  Germany's  Minister 
had  been  torn  to  pieces,  limb  by  limb!  The 
representative  of  France  had  been  boiled  in  oil ! 
Woo-Ho-Kee  shook  his  head  and  spread  his 
bands  with  prophetic  sorrow. 


EEDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    187 

"Heap  great  fools  do  that  murder,"  he  de 
clared. 

To  Toe's  amazement,  Hop  Lee  now  seemed 
to  be  a  personage  in  the  eyes  of  her  father. 
She  did  not  know  that  the  young  Celestial  had 
been  explaining  the  situation,  telling  all  that 
he  knew  about  the  uprising.  He  had  returned 
so  lately  from  the  North  of  China  that  his 
words  held  force,  and  the  girl  listened  breath- 


"China  no  sense.  I  see  trouble  myself .  All 
shoot  guns  every  night  back  Tien-Tain,"  he  re 
ported  authentically.  "Empress  make  all  men 
shoot;  get  ready  for  war.  Empress  say  no 
man  can  kill  Boxers!  I  no  believe  that— Old 
Lady  last  too  long  1  She  too  dark.  She  go  off 
die — more  better.  Now  Boxers  1H11  United 
States  Minister,  China  soon  be  all  same  Jew — 
no  country.  United  States  no  be  fool  with. 
Boxers  can  not  whip  great  army — many  sog- 
ers!  Big  guns!  China  soon  be  all  same  Span 
ish  ships — heap  sunk." 

Hop's  terse  resume  was  warmly  received  by 
his  employer,  Woo-Ho-Kee.  The  astonished 
women  said  nothing;  and  soon  the  men  strode 


188       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

away,  drawn  by  new  bonds.  Yoc  and  her 
mother  remained  behind  to  chatter  about 
dreadful  Boxers  until  each  was  weary  of  an 
almost  incomprehensible  subject.  They  could 
not  realize  the  personal  import  of  trouble  at 
the  other  side  of  the  world.  Not  until  weeks 
afterward  did  they  understand  what  it  would 
mean  to  the  Oriental  quarter  of  Los  Angeles 
if  the  United  States  made  war  on  China. 

But  through  dark  days  that  followed,  when 
no  official  word  came  from  Peking,  the  wife 
and  daughter  went  about  the  curio  shop  in  sub 
dued  silence.  Woo-Ho-Kee  was  in  no  humor 
to  be  annoyed  by  his  family.  Already  bill  col 
lectors  had  descended  upon  the  Celestial 
quarter.  Every  Chinese  merchant  was  forced 
to  pay  his  debts,  even  to  the  last  penny.  The 
Oriental  dragon  flag  and  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
still  waved  side  by  side,  yet,  for  all  apparent 
good  feeling  manifested  by  Christian  sympa 
thizers,  wise  aliens  understood  that  their  doom 
was  sealed  if  no  word  came  from  Minister 
Conger. 

The  situation  grew  intense  for  golden-faced 
men  of  Los  Angeles'  Chinatown.  Educated 


KEDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    189 

Celestials  became  frightened  and  silent,  even 
among  themselves,  while  all  waited  anxiously 
for  a  gleam  of  hope.  Then  came  the  tidings  of 
the  fall  of  Tien-Tsin ;  the  story  of  the  looting 
and  the  wild  butchery  of  yellow  countrymen. 
Weeks  went  by,  and  now  the  allies  were  ap 
proaching  the  outskirts  of  imperial  Peking. 
For  Hop  Lee  the  fall  of  Tien-Tsin  was  doubly 
stirring.  Each  day  he  went  to  the  Chinese 
postoffice, — always  expecting  a  letter.  Ex 
citement  keyed  his  voice  to  a  hopeful  pitch  and 
warmed  his  covetous  eyes  with  fire.  He  gazed 
often  at  Yoc,  the  lotus  bud. 

The  girl,  too,  felt  strange,  eager  flutterings. 
She  dressed  more  carefully,  and  red  flowers 
always  adorned  her  hair.  Woo-Ho-Kee  alone 
seemed  dull  with  misery.  Few  customers 
came  to  the  shop,  for  the  sun  of  late  July  had 
driven  away  the  tourists.  Debts  stared  the 
merchant  in  the  face  and  soon  he  must  pay 
them  or  resign  a  large  part  of  his  stock.  His 
credit,  so  good  before  the  Chinese  war,  seemed 
worthless.  And  each  day  the  allies  marched 
to  Peking !  Poor  Woo-Ho-Kee  often  laid  his 
head  upon  his  hands  and  sighed. 


190       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

One  day  Hop  Lee  saw  him,  and  came  quickly 
forward.  For  a  moment  he  wavered  irreso 
lutely,  then  found  his  voice. 

"You  take  this — you  get  peace,"  he  said 
pointedly.  From  a  small  bag  of  chamois  skin 
he  poured  out  a  pile  of  gold;  it  fell  upon  his 
employer's  desk  like  smiles  from  Joss.  "I 
no  need  send  money  back  Tien-Tsin  any 
more.  You  use, ' '  the  hireling  explained  lacon 
ically. 

The  father  of  Yoc,  the  lotus  blossom,  mar 
veled.  "You  my  flend  for  sure,"  he  declared 
feelingly.  Then  the  yellow  men  clasped  hands 
with  true  American  fervor. 

While  they  thus  stood,  Yoc  and  the  two  par- 
rakeets  fluttered  into  the  shop.  The  girl  was 
in  holiday  apparel,  richly  dressed;  her  little 
brothers  were  gorgeous  to  behold. 

"I  go  Sunday-school  pic-nic!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "My  nice  teacher  come  plitty  soon 
in  carriage — take  me  to  park.  My  little  blud- 
ders  go,  too!" 

White  teeth  gleamed  triumphantly  as  her 
velvet  eyelids  rose  and  fell  with  their  usual 


REDEMPTION  OP  HOP  LEE    191 

cunning.    In  her  hand  Yoc  held  a  large  paper 
bag. 

"See!"  she  cried,  greedily.  "I  fill  him  up 
at  pic-nic — bling  you  all  home  good  ting. 
Cake,  ba-nan-as,  nuts!"  She  finished  in  a 
transport  of  anticipation,  while  in  Celestial 
chorus  the  two  parrakeets  clamored  for  provis 
ion  sacks.  The  indulgent  father  supplied  each 
son  with  true  commercial  pride.  His  shining 
first  born,  by  virtue  of  acknowledged  superior 
ity,  snatched  two  large  bags,  while  the  younger 
brother  was  limited  to  one.  The  gay  flock  flew 
for  the  open  door ;  for  the  wheels  of  the  mission 
teacher's  vehicle  had  been  heard  in  the  street. 
Then  Madam  Woo-Ho-Kee  rushed  breathlessly 
from  the  rear  of  the  house,  a  dream  of  Oriental 
elegance.  Her  long  earrings  shook  in  the  sun 
light;  in  her  hand  she  carried  a  fan  and  a 
brown  paper  bag.  With  polite  smiles  and  ob 
sequious  bows,  Woo-Ho-Kee  and  Hop  Lee  wit 
nessed  an  exciting  hegira.  As  the  last  parra- 
keet  found  his  perch,  the  carriage  rattled  away. 
The  two  men  went  indoors,  at  last,  to  converse 
on  an  entirely  new  basis.  Hop's  hour  had 


192       THE  YELLOW.  ANGEL 

come.  His  voice  was  strong  and  Ms  manner 
seemed  born  of  wealth  at  hand.  He  felt  him 
self  to  be  the  acknowledged  equal  of  his  once 
arrogant  employer,  Woo-Ho-Kee. 

"I  not  tell  you  I  get  letter  from  Tien-Tsin 
this  day,"  he  remarked  with  introductory  im 
port. 

The  boss  eyed  him  sharply.  "So!"  he  ex 
claimed  with  dawning  apprehension.  "You 
hear  you  family  all  dead?" 

The  younger  Celestial  beamed  at  the  deso 
late  question. 

"My  father  live  little  longer — two — three 
month ;  my  mother,  my  wife — both  dead. ' '  He 
finished  abruptly.  Then  more  gold  coin 
poured  out  on  Woo-Ho-Kee 's  desk.  Hop 
pointed  to  it  with  rising  emotion. 

"You  count,"  he  commanded. 

The  merchant  complied,  his  long  fingers  sort 
ing  the  precious  disks  into  even,  glowing  piles. 

1  i  Twenty — forty — sixty — eighty — one  hun 
dred,"  he  called.  Twenty  times  he  repeated 
the  sum,  gloating  as  he  counted.  The  tense 
lines  of  his  yellow  brow  softened.  "Hard 
times  these  bad  days!  I  not  sleep  much  last 


E  folded  his  arm* 


opulently. 


REDEMPTION  OF   HOP  LEE     193 

night;  now  I  get  peace,"  he  o.wned.  "But  I 
no  can  pay  very  soon.  Not  till  next  winter. 
Heap  rain — I  pay  up  clean  China  New  Year." 

Hop  wavered  before  his  opportunity,  but  to 
burst  out  more  bravely. 

"I  not  want  you  pay  me.  I  want  you  girl, 
Yoc.  I  marry  her — work  for  you  all  same." 

He  paused,  only  to  watch  Woo-Ho-Kee. 
Fate  seemed  to  be  balancing  chances  of  earthly 
bliss,  and  Hop  could  not  discern  the  merchant's 
crafty  thoughts.  Once  the  long  fingers  seemed 
about  to  push  away  the  piles  of  shining  gold. 
For  a  second  a  scornful  curve  cut  through  the 
lips  of  the  petitioned  father ;  then  he  swallowed 
a  direct  refusal. 

"My  Yoc  fine  girl!  One  rich  man  pay  me 
five  thousand  dollars."  Woo-Ho-Kee  folded 
his  arms  opulently.  Hop  did  not  presume  to 
refute  a  chilling  truth ;  Woo-Ho-Kee  resumed 
more  kindly.  "Yoc,  my  little  one,  I  hope  she 
find  rich  husband.  She  heap  smart — learn  all 
same  boy.  One  day  I  tell  her  she  worth  five 
thousand  dollar.  She  stamp  foot,  scream  like 
white  devil — say  she  will  not  marry  rich  old 
man."  The  proud  father  chuckled.  "I  let 


194       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Yoc  go  mission  school  too  long.  She  get  too 
smart.  Now  I  poor!  Heap  broke!  You 
take  her." 

Woo-Ho-Kee's  greedy  fingers  gathered  in 
the  gold.  It  clinked  in  his  grasp.  "I  go  out 
— pay  my  damned  debts,"  he  grunted. 

The  door  of  the  shop  closed  behind  him. 
Hop  was  alone.  His  transport  was  great. 
He  could  do  nothing  but  walk  the  floor  and  lis 
ten  for  the  slow-returning  wheels  of  the  mis 
sion  school  teacher's  carriage.  The  afternoon 
dragged ;  then  at  sundown  he  heard  a  glad  rat 
tle  in  the  street  and  witnessed  the  victorious  re 
turn  of  Madam  Woo-Ho-Kee  and  her  green 
and  yellow  birdlings.  Brown  paper  bags 
bulged  before  him  with  promise;  but  he  saw 
only  Yoc,  floating  through  the  golden  mist  of 
early  evening — lotus  bud  upon  a  sacred  stream 
— heavenly  flower !  plucked  at  last ! 

Los  Angeles '  Chinatown  blazed  with  lanterns. 
Celestials  ran  hither  and  thither  wildly  dis 
cussing  the  capture  of  great  Peking.  The  for 
eign  ministers  were  safe!  The  old  Empress 
and  the  court  had  flown.  The  Forbidden  City 


REDEMPTION  OF  HOP  LEE    195 

had  been  entered  by  profane  feet.  The  Box 
ers  had  not  proved  invulnerable  to  Mauser  bul 
lets.  Awakened  men  of  Chinatown  wagged 
their  sagacious  pigtails,  noisily  prophesying 
light  for  their  stubborn  old  country.  After  a 
time  the  race  would  see  beyond  its  stupid, 
crumbling  walls,  its  dark,  impassable  moun 
tains. 

For  Yoc  and  Hop  the  time  was  doubly  mem 
orable.  Their  nuptials  had  been  celebrate! 
with  suitable  pomp,  and  now  from  behind  a 
palm-trimmed  balcony  they  eagerly  discussed 
the  stirring  events  of  the  past  few  weeks. 
Long  golden  earrings  dangled  from  the  bride's 
little  ears.  She  shook  them  importantly  be 
fore  her  progressive  spouse.  The  pomegran 
ate  tinge  was  warm  upon  her  cheeks ;  she  spoke 
with  new  authority. 

"You  like  you  wife  live  these  United  States 
— America  ?  More  nice  you  wife  not  stay  back 
China?"  Her  velvet  eyelids  rose  shyly.  The 
lotus  bud,  full-blown,  gazed  at  her  handsome 
husband. 

"I  glad  you  wife  die  back  Tien-Tsin — I 
play  Ples-by-te-ri-an  God  all  those  days !  My 


196       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

teacher  say  I  ask,  I  get.  I  ask  you  old  wife  go 
dead — she  go.  Now  I  heap  glad  I  good  Clis- 
tian — sure  pop."  She  clasped  her  hands  de 
voutly. 

The  palm  bowered  balcony  grew  dim,  for  red 
lanterns  were  burned  out.  In  the  street  below 
the  clatter  of  Celestials  had  ceased — the  re 
demption  of  Hop  Lee  was  accomplished. 


THE  AWAKENING  OF  THE  DRAGON 

THE  gambling  den  of  the  " Ant-eater" 
swarmed  with  human  yellow  wretches. 
Like  insects,  slant-eyed  miserables  fed  the 
slime  of  old  Chung  Foo's  greedy  tongue. 
Handsome  Lem  Gay  alone  had  yet  one  coin; 
when  that  was  lost,  he  would  be  as  the  others, 
a  morsel  for  Chung  Foo. 

As  the  richly  dressed  Celestial  flung  down 
his  remaining  chance,  the  money  fell  on  the 
matting-covered  table  like  a  challenge  to  de 
parting  hope.  The  defiant  action  held  strange 
interest  for  a  stolid,  ruined  crowd. 

In  the  center  of  the  table,  under  a  bronze 
cover,  hid  illusive  buttons  of  fan-tan;  on  one 
corner  of  the  soiled  matting  rested  the  solitary 
coin  of  the  dude  of  Chinatown.  The  game 
could  be  but  a  travesty,  yet  the  heathens 
watched  like  cats  for  its  delayed  ending. 

When  the  tricky  fingers  of  the  Ant-eater  be 
gan  to  draw  forth  slowly  from  beneath  the 

197 


198       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

magic  cover,  the  crowd  howled  in  hellish 
chorus,  guessing  the  result — each  time — cor 
rectly.  Lena  Gay  knew  that  his  luck  had  not 
returned ;  perverse  doom  simply  tarried  at  the 
will  of  Chung  Foo.  A  few  more  seconds!  a 
few  maneuvers  under  the  lid ;  then  a  final  ex 
posure,  the  end. 

Gay  twisted  a  piece  of  paper  to  shreds.  All 
at  once  the  yellow  wretches  shouted  as  fiends ; 
the  bronze  cover  lifted — Gay  had  lost! 

For  a  moment  the  victim  of  the  night  sat  still 
and  sullen.  As  yet  Gay  could  hardly  realize 
his  misfortunes;  greater  far  than  the  linger 
ing  yellow  herd  surmised.  Ignominy  had  be 
gun  for  the  Celestial.  His  fortune,  accumu 
lated  through  years  of  successful  cooking  in  a 
family  hotel,  now  jingled  in  the  pockets  of  old 
Chung  Foo.  The  younger  man  was  worse 
than  a  pauper.  And  soon  blacker  shame 
would  be  his. 

In  a  few  days  the  sneering  outside  world 
would  know  of  his  downfall — the  old  quarter 
resound  with  a  tale  of  heathen  baseness.  For 
Gay  had  gambled  away  not  only  his  money,  but 
Ah  Puck,  his  handsome  young  wife. 


THE  AWAKENING  199 

The  miserable  husband  fancied  the  rustle  of 
the  hateful  bond,  beneath  the  purple  robe  of 
old  Chung  Foo.  A  dastardly,  unrecorded 
mortgage  on  Ah  Puck  eclipsed  all  former  fan- 
tan  ventures.  Justly  now  the  civilized  upper 
town  might  rage ;  those  opposed  to  aliens  sneer. 

Lem  Gay  shrewdly  divined  the  full  dishonor 
of  his  crime.  Yet  he  could  swear  by  every  de 
parted  sacred  ancestor,  that  he  had  not  fore 
seen  an  evil  hour.  He  had  never  dreamed  that 
in  the  end  Ah  Puck  would  fall  to  Chung  Foo. 
What  cursed  luck  was  his !  He  had  only  meant 
to  speculate  to  his  own  advantage,  to  ruin  the 
" Ant-eater";  eventually  to  endow  Ah  Puck 
and  a  potential  heir  with  flowers  of  luxury. 
Dreams  I  dreams!  Lena  Gay — young,  ad 
mired,  envied  by  all  Los  Angeles'  Chinatown 
— would  now  be  a  Celestial  by-word.  Ah  Puck 
lost  to  old  Chung  Foo!  Henceforth  be  his 
shame ! 

Lem  Gay  told  himself  that  he  was  as  bad 
as  the  " white  devil"  who  gambles  away  mil 
lions  of  other  people 's  money.  Disgrace  faced 
him  and  for  a  moment  he  dwelt  on  the  advan 
tage  of  committing  the  Japanese  act  of  Hara- 


200       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

kari.  His  hand  felt  for  a  knife.  Then  the  de 
sire  to  die  passed.  Lem  Gay  had  work  to  do. 
Before  he  went  from  the  world  to  join  an  in 
numerable  company  in  the  spirit-land  he  meant 
to  slay  old  Chung  Foo.  He  must  save  his 
woman,  Ah  Puck,  at  any  cost.  The  coveted 
belle  of  the  quarter  should  never  enrich  the 
lair  of  the  "  Ant-eater. "  In  the  dark  of  the 
moon  the  old  gambler  would  not  be  on  earth 
to  demand  the  fulfilment  of  his  bond.  A  hard 
smile  parted  Gay's  lips. 

Victims  of  the  night  loitered  within  the  den. 
Halting,  all  yet  waited,  their  high  yellow 
cheeks  pale,  ashen,  hellish  beneath  the  blanch 
ing  glare  of  arc  rays.  With  bestial  cries  now 
dead  in  their  throats,  the  wretches  stood  ready 
to  depart — to  slink  away  in  filthy  rat  holes  of 
the  quarter. 

The  last  chance  to  address  Chung  Foo's  ene 
mies  had  arrived.  Gay  repeated  the  death- 
word — the  awful  death- word — "Sez  yan!" 
Hate  lit  his  handsome  countenance;  his  head 
rose  defiantly.  A  hiss,  a  devil's  scream,  swept 
over  his  petrified  audience.  Gay's  long,  swift 
gaze  struck  yellow  faces  with  revolutionary 


THE  AWAKENING  201 

command.  From  flaming,  slanting  corners  of 
his  eyelids  lie  cried,  "Kill!  kill!  kill!  free  the 
quarter — save  Ah  Puck!"  Yellow  faces  an 
swered  him  with  silent  pledges.  Half  open 
mouths  seemed  to  speak  while  burning  eyes  be 
stowed  allegiance.  The  death-word,  "Sez 
yan ! "  trembled  on  every  tongue.  In  a  mirror 
hung  high  and  slanting,  old  Chung  Foo  saw  all ; 
felt  the  numbering  of  his  days. 

Meantime,  Lem  Gay  passed  from  the  gam 
bling  den  into  the  street.  Once  outside,  he 
shivered.  Death's  hour  seemed  hovering  be 
neath  paling  stars.  The  departing  heathen's 
dragging  feet  echoed  strangely  to  his  supersti 
tious  brain.  He  twisted  his  tall  body  suspi 
ciously  ;  no  assassin  followed,  and  he  went  on. 

He  staggered  along  his  deserted  way,  drunk 
with  misery,  dull  with  shame.  Impelled  by 
fancy,  he  suddenly  stopped;  for  beneath  the 
rays  of  the  arc  light,  he  beheld  a  gaudily-gar 
landed  portrait  of  the  well-beloved  President 
of  the  United  States.  With  a  flash  of  reviving 
interest  in  coming  events  Lem  Gay  recalled  the 
approach  of  "La  Fiesta."  He  remembered 
that  at  the  end  of  a  week  the  streets  of  Los 


202       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Angeles  would  blaze  with  flags  and  banners 
and  millions  of  fresh  flowers.  The  "man 
Joss" — McKinley,  the  kind  one! — was  coming 
to  view  the  Southwest  land.  Here  then  was  a 
last  chance ;  a  remaining  hope. 

Gay's  superstitious  soul  arose  to  supplicate 
the  image  of  his  dream.  In  the  old  quarter  the 
American  man  stood  high.  He  was  "  McKin 
ley,  the  just,"  the  friend  of  honest  aliens;  fair 
to  their  interests;  sympathetic  with  their 
struggles  for  advancement.  In  an  elemental 
way  Gay  felt  the  force  of  the  President's  ap 
proaching  visit.  The  stone  gods  of  his  fathers 
had  deserted  him.  He  had  prayed  in  vain — no 
good  had  come!  Chung  Foo  alone  had  been 
heard.  Gay  was  a  consistent  heathen.  The 
mission  schools  of  the  city  had  not  gathered 
him  in ;  traditions  and  abominations  were  with 
him.  To-night  the  unhappy  dude  of  the 
quarter  felt  in  the  silken  folds  of  his  sleeve  and 
drew  forth  a  bunch  of  yellow  prayer  papers. 

Even  as  he  gazed  upward,  the  "man  Joss" 
appeared  to  smile;  the  judicial  expression  of 
the  portrait  to  relax. 

The  heathen  disciple  trembled.     Surely  the 


THE  AWAKENING  203 

"man  Joss"  promised  to  save  Ah  Puck?  bade 
a  degenerate  spouse  take  courage "?  The  fancy 
seemed  conclusive.  One  by  one  Gay  lit  prayer 
papers  and  sent  them  like  yellow  fire-flies  into 
the  night.  His  heathen  heart  was  enraptured, 
uplifted,  as  he  watched  them  burn. 

Then  his  plans  began  to  take  definite  shape, 
and  he  smiled  craftily.  Through  the  ensuing 
week  he  would  importune  his  new  Joss :  each 
night  burn  prayers  beneath  the  portrait ;  sup 
plicate  for  the  opportunity,  which  would  come 
during  La  Fiesta — on  the  day  appointed  for 
the  great  procession. 

With  fluttering  heart  Gay  remembered  that 
the  Chinese  dragon  was  to  awaken  in  honor  of 
the  President — to  pass  directly  beneath  the  of 
ficial  platform.  Here  then,  was  the  chance  to 
meet  the  i  l  Joss  man ' '  face  to  face !  Suddenly, 
with  returning  hope  and  vanity,  Gay  recalled 
his  own  particular  part  in  the  approaching 
carnival.  He  was  glad  that  he  had  consented 
to  walk  at  the  head  of  the  great  dragon,  which, 
after  a  prolonged  nap  of  over  two  years,  would 
again  wriggle  forth.  The  old  quarter  was  wild 
over  the  prospective  awakening,  while  the 


204       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

name  of  McKinley  trembled  on  every  heathen 
tongue.  The  Spanish  War  and  general  hard 
times  had  kept  the  Chinese  monster  quiet ;  but 
now  the  dragon  was  to  rise  up,  to  writhe  again 
for  a  wondering  multitude. 

The  Celestial's  pulse  quickened.  He  felt 
sure  that  his  new  Joss  had  smiled;  that  help 
had  come;  that  Ah  Puck  and  her  potential 
man-child  would  be  saved.  His  plot  developed 
every  moment.  Chung  Foo  seemed  already 
slain. 

Uplifted  and  walking  with  a  firmer  tread, 
Gay  started  down  the  street.  The  dawn  was 
breaking  and  he  moved  swiftly  to  his  tightly- 
closed  home.  Here  the  belated  one  halted,  half 
unwilling  to  enter.  The  shame  of  his  night's 
undoing  again  faced  him.  As  he  tarried,  the 
door  opened  with  magic  softness.  Ah  Puck, 
heavy-eyed,  questioning,  shrewish,  bade  him 
come  in. 

"Too  much  long  from  home,"  she  chided. 
' '  You  get  lich  this  time  sure  ? ' '  Without  wait 
ing  for  her  lord's  answer,  she  burst  into  wild 
congratulation  and  jubilant  pidgin  English. 
Her  painted  lips  trembled;  her  eyes  shone. 


THE  AWAKENING  205 

"I  happy  you  stay  long,  catchey  heap 
money !  You  heap  smart.  Now  plitty  soon  I 
go  see  you  make  big  dragon  joyful  to  Plesident 
— these  United  States.  Now  you  lich !  you  let 
you  wife  lide  fine  hack  ?  I  glad  I  go  see  pro- 
cess-sion — all  same  Hop  Lee  loman.  She  tell 
me,  her  man  say  she  can  lide  that  grand  hack  1" 
Puck  smiled  entrancingly.  "I  likey  you  stay 
way  all  night — get  heap  money!  I  be  bully 
glad  you  do  that  way!"  Gay  winced. 

"I  let  you  go,"  he  answered. 

Ah  Puck's  silken  sleeves  fell  away  from 
round  arms,  adorned  with  jade  bracelets.  She 
raised  her  hands  coquettishly  above  her 
greased,  ebony  head,  still  dressed  as  for  the 
day. 

"Hop  Lee  loman  too  ploud!  she  too  smart — 
'cause  that  little  son!"  she  complained  jeal 
ously.  ' '  She  say  I  stay  home,  not  see  pro-cess- 
sion — all  same — that  hack!"  Ah  Puck 
laughed  scornfully.  "She  say  her  man  wear 
long  beard,  go  grand  hack — heap  big  bug !  all 
same  Chinese  Bloard  Trade.  Len,  I  say,  'My 
man  boss  big  dragon!  not  let  Plesident  get 
bite!7  She  laughed  again.  "I  say  my  man 


206       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

'wear  lovely  does!  do  wonder  tlick — make 
dragon  po-lite!  heap  bully!" 

Ah  Puck  was  proud  of  her  English,  picked 
up  on  the  street,  and  at  a  school  for  Chinese 
women,  which  she  occasionally  attended.  To 
night  she  aired  freshly  acquired  slang.  Every 
thing  was  " bully!"  her  belated  lord  included. 
Ah  Puck  was  very  happy.  It  was  a  distinc 
tion  to  be  owned  by  the  dude  of  Chinatown. 
On  the  eve  of  "La  Fiesta,"  the  young  woman 
realized  her  social  position  as  never  before. 

To-night  her  tongue  seemed  loosed  for  flat 
tery,  while  she  squatted  at  her  husband's  feet. 
"I  tell  Hop  Lee  loman  you  heap  good!"  she 
cajoled.  "I  say  I  give  you  heap  beau-ti-ful 
little  son — velly  soon." 

The  unconscious  blow  struck  sharply.  Gay 
could  endure  the  irony  of  his  fate  no  longer. 

4 'You  shut  up!  I  go  catch  sleep,"  he  cried 
warningly,  as  he  flung  himself  across  the  bed. 

Ah  Puck,  unconscious  of  offence  and  sure  of 
her  lord's  preeminence,  waited  until  he 
breathed  heavily;  then  she  slipped  from  the 
room.  Her  pretty  head  was  now  filled  with 
plans  for  social  aggrandizement ;  she  had  given 


"//OP  LEE  Ionian  too  ploud!    She  too 
swart  'cause  that  little  .s'ow-/" 


THE  AWAKENING  207 

up  all  idea  of  rest.  For  a  time  she  wished  to 
indulge  in  day-dreams ;  to  gloat  in  secret  on  po 
tential  joy.  Her  rival  across  the  way — Mrs. 
Hop  Lee — would  be  compelled  to  relinquish  a 
boasted  corner  on  wifely  indulgence.  Soon 
the  woman  of  Lem  Gay  might  also  ride  in  a 
hired  hack,  driven  by  a  " white  devil."  Ah 
Puck  laughed  softly,  as  she  passed  from  the 
house  into  a  tiny  garden  fenced  off.  at  the  rear. 
Here,  above  a  bed  of  blood-red  poppies,  her 
mental  pictures  bloomed  still  richer.  When 
the  man-child  came,  there  could  be  little  to  wish 
for — Lem  Gay  would  then  adore  her  beyond 
all  others! 

Pride  of  condition  brought  new  dignity  to 
Ah  Puck.  Natural  color  spread  around  the 
painted  spots  of  her  cheeks ;  then  her  thoughts 
went  back  to  the  promised  triumph  of  the  ap 
proaching  week — to  La  Fiesta !  to  the  awaken 
ing  of  the  dragon. 

With  rapture  the  wife  of  Lem  Gay  recalled 
vivid  impressions  of  the  great  Chinese  wonder. 
She  hardly  believed  her  eyes  the  first  time  she 
had  seen  the  splendid  thing  in  full  play, 
stretching  down  the  street,  two  full  blocks.  It 


208       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

did  not  seem  possible  that  the  brilliant,  elastic 
sections  of  the  lively  beast  could  be  only  richly 
embroidered  silks,  held  together  in  golden  set 
tings.  She  still  saw  two  lines  of  half  hidden, 
gorgeously  dressed  men,  who  strained  with 
long  poles  beneath  the  heavy  frame-work  to 
manipulate  the  wonderful  monster.  In  spite 
of  what  she  really  knew,  the  springing  green 
legs  below  the  Dragon  seemed  half  a  mystery. 
Then,  on  either  side,  she  had  seen  understudies, 
ready  and  eager  to  relieve  at  a  second's  notice 
perspiring,  over- worked  "cousins."  And  so 
magical  had  been  the  exchange  of  a  turkey 
feather  fan  for  a  pole  that  few  onlookers  per 
ceived  the  trick.  For  again  the  beast  leaped 
forward,  writhing;  ever  controlled  by  heathen 
expedient. 

Ah  Puck  had  listened  with  delight  to  the 
crash  of  Chinese  gongs — to  the  shouts  of  her 
countrymen.  But  the  most  remarkable  fea 
ture  of  the  monster  was  its  great  golden  head, 
with  jaws  of  precious  jade  always  open  for  a 
darting  tongue  of  jewels!  Nothing  so  splen 
did  had  ever  been  conceived  of  by  admiring 
women  of  Los  Angeles '  Chinatown.  To-day,  in 


PUCK  was  very  happy.     It  rim 
a    distinction    to    be    owned   by    the 
dude  of  Chinatown. 


THE  AWAKENING  209 

the  little  garden,  Ah  Puck  smiled  when  she  re 
membered  that  her  lord  and  master  had  been 
chosen  to  walk  at  the  dragon's  head.  It  was 
pleasant  to  imagine  Lem  Gay  arrayed  in  of 
ficial  finery.  His  gorgeous  costume,  a  dream 
of  lavender  and  rose,  was  quite  finished ;  every 
thing  from  a  beautiful  head-dress  to  Oriental 
shoes  was  in  the  front  room,  ready  for  the 
President's  coming.  And  perhaps  with  the 
advent  of  McKinley,  great  luck  would  fall 
upon  Chinatown — upon  the  wife  of  Lem  Gay ! 
The  fancy  was  sweet  to  Ah  Puck. 

With  no  thought  of  impending  disaster,  she 
leaned  lazily  against  a  porch  prop  twined  with 
moon-flowers.  Here  happy  dreams  bloomed 
like  awakening  blue-eyed  blossoms. 

Suddenly  Ah  Puck  felt  the  need  of  food. 
Day  had  come  with  one  glad  flash  of  golden 
light,  and  with  velvet  tread  the  young  wife  re- 
entered  her  little  home.  Lem  Gay,  in  the 
darkened  front  room,  must  not  be  aroused. 
Fortunately  the  back  shed  held  breakfast — a 
bowl  of  cold  rice,  seasoned  with  chunks  of 
pork.  Ah  Puck  was  very  hungry,  and  her 
slender  fingers  met  the  full  requirements  of 


210       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

chop-sticks.  Occasionally  she  moistened  her 
early  meal  with  sips  of  cold  tea.  By  the  time 
she  had  finished,  gentle  languor  touched  her 
eyelids;  with  no  domestic  duties  to  keep  her 
awake,  she  took  pattern  of  her  sleeping  lord. 

Meanwhile  the  gambling  den  of  Chung  Foo 
had  sent  lingering  wretches  into  sunlit  streets. 
In  divers  directions  fled  yellow  victims,  lost 
for  the  day  in  holes  and  runways  of  the  pro 
tecting  quarter.  The  Ant-eater  was  alone, 
eager  to  examine  the  mortgage  on  Ah  Puck — 
wife  of  Lem  Gay.  His  long  forefinger  traced 
the  abominable  bond  throughout,  while  a  smile 
made  sinister  joy  for  his  ugly  lips. 

The  girl  was  his  own ;  at  last  he  might  exult 
in  the  thought  of  a  young  wife.  Foo  sprang 
forward,  thrusting  the  paper  beneath  his 
clothes.  For  a  moment  he  stood  before  the 
door  of  an  adjoining  room,  then  with  trem 
bling  hands  plied  the  lock. 

On  the  threshold  he  paused  to  survey  a  work 
of  weeks  back.  Here  was  the  center  of  his 
far-reaching  web,  sedulously  wroven  for  unsus 
picious  Ah  Puck.  Sumptuous!  gorgeous! 
heathen  in  all  its  appointments,  the  bridal- 


THE  AWAKENING  211 

chamber  waited.  Only  the  moon  delayed  his 
triumph;  when  that  grew  sick  and  lean,  poor 
little  Ah  Puck  would  be  caught.  In  the  dark 
of  the  month  she  would  come. 

Chung  Foo  examined  the  spring  lock;  then 
turned  into  the  room,  slamming  the  door 
grimly.  A  great  carved  cabinet  caught  his 
eye,  and  with  foolish,  feverish,  half -doting  im 
patience,  he  snatched  open  its  drawers  and  se 
cret  panels.  His  old  hands  trembled  as  they 
examined  gifts  collected  for  the  wife  of  Lem 
Gay.  Jewels !  shimmering  embroidered  stuffs 
and  golden  chains ;  each  treasure  won  with  cun 
ning  joy.  To  each  was  attached  an  inhuman 
price. 

Chung  Foo  sprang  to  and  fro  in  restless 
anger.  Why  must  he  wait  ?  Why  should  the 
great  Chung  Foo,  the  hated  and  feared  of 
Tongs,  not  claim  his  own?  The  thought 
pleased,  and  the  old  man  grinned.  Jagged 
rows  of  opium-stained  teeth  gnashed  with  re 
volting  passion. 

In  the  corner  of  the  room  stood  a  shrine 
sacred  to  his  favorite  joss,  and  budding  pos 
sibilities  of  love.  Chung  Foo  suddenly  waxed 


devotional.  His  determination  to  gain  im 
mediate  possession  of  Ah  Puck  strengthened 
with  the  rising  odors  of  efficacious  joss  sticks. 
As  the  little  apartment  grew  heavy  with  doting 
supplication,  the  old  reprobate  fancied  his 
charmer's  presence.  The  wife  of  Lem  Gay, 
the  best  looking  girl  of  the  quarter,  was  with 
him.  Taller  and  larger  than  most  Chinese 
women,  Ah  Puck's  beauty  blazed  before  his 
polluted  mind.  Her  ebony,  shining,  highly- 
greased  head  seemed  to  eclipse  the  image  of  his 
household  shrine. 

Chung  Foo  lit  fresh  joss  sticks.  When  Ah 
Puck  came  into  his  web,  his  notoriety  would  be 
complete. 

Chung  Foo's  coffers  held  gold  and  bonds; 
some  day  he  would  go  back  to  China  and  live 
as  a  prince.  Ah  Puck's  man-child  should  be 
his  heir;  in  the  fatherland  none  would  know 
that  the  boy  was  not  his  own. 

Dense  odors  sickened  the  air.  The  ant- 
eater's  sharp  eyes  grew  dull  and  heavy,  and  he 
flung  himself  recklessly  across  the  superb  bed 
prepared  for  Ah  Puck.  Into  the  deeply- 
shaded  room  no  sunlight  crept.  Noises  from 


THE  AWAKENING  213 

the  quarter  scarcely  reached  the  wadded  re 
treat. 

And  Ah  Puck,  left  to  her  own  devices  during 
days  which  followed,  found  fresh  rapture  in 
dreams  of  a  promised  chariot.  To  go  forth  in 
state  seemed  the  acme  of  Celestial  glory.  Lena 
Gay  to  all  appearances  seemed  engrossed  with 
the  eccentricities  of  the  awakening  dragon. 
He  was  seldom  at  home.  Time  was  precious 
and  the  Celestial's  scheme  for  vengeance  must 
ripen  fast.  But  his  secret  was  still  safe  be 
neath  the  ribs  of  the  Mongolian  monster.  Gay 
had  made  insidious  progress  with  his  company 
of  pole-bearing  coolies.  In  the  green  and  lav 
ender  legs  of  countrymen,  flashing  below  the 
dragon's  writhing  frame,  he  now  found  new 
hope.  The  men  had  promised  to  revenge  his 
wrongs. 

Slanting  eyes  and  inscrutable  glances  fore 
told  the  doom  of  the  Ant-eater.  The  rescue  of 
Ah  Puck  was  sure.  A  Chinese  epic  waited  to 
be  sung.  Each  day  Gay  marshalled  his  pole- 
bearers  with  determination.  To  perform  his 
heroic  part  with  credit  grew  into  a  laudible  am- 


214       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

bition  as  the  morning  of  the  street  carnival 
dawned.  The  President  had  come:  the  "City 
of  Angels"  cried  " Hail!" 

A  blue  canopy  stretched  above  the  purple 
range  and  against  it  no  dark  cloud  floated. 
No  prophetic  check  to  universal  joy  was  seen 
in  nature.  The  streets  blazed  significantly 
when  a  notable  day  at  last  opened  with  climatic 
eclat.  The  most  carping  tourist  found  no 
fault. 

In  Chinatown  influential  yellow  men  ran 
hither  and  thither,  both  directing  and  execut 
ing.  Despotic  and  republican  emotions 
sharpened  their  tense  features  and  metallic 
voices.  Then,  after  hours  of  labor,  a  long  bar 
baric  column,  gorgeous!  heathen!  fantastic! 
headed  by  the  plunging  dragon  of  mythologi 
cal  proportions,  moved  safely  from  the  Quar 
ter.  Nothing  had  been  forgotten.  The 
scheme  of  Oriental  color  was  marvelous  to  be 
hold. 

For  Ah  Puck  the  departure  of  Lena  Gay  was 
significant.  "With  radiant  wifely  pride  she 
marked  his  rich  apparel  and  long  golden  prod. 
To-day  she  was  indeed  happy  to  belong  to  her 


THE  AWAKENING  215 

handsome  lord.  As  the  dragon's  flashing  tail 
vanished  from  view,  she  ran  wildly  forward. 
She  caught  a  last  glimpse  of  the  sinuous  beast 
circling  the  old  Plaza,  then  a  triumphant  leap 
lurched  it  into  the  main  thoroughfare — it  was 
gone! 

Ah  Puck  turned  homeward  to  await  her 
promised  chariot.  The  hour  was  late,  but  Lem 
Gay  had  said  the  carriage  would  surely  come. 
In  feverish  impatience  the  gaily-dressed 
woman  peered  up  and  down  the  street.  Ten 
minutes  before  Mrs.  Hop  Lee  had  taken  flight 
in  an  open  hack  accompanied  by  her  first  born, 
her  mother  and  two  small  brothers,  richly 
feathered  like  green  and  yellow  parrakeets. 

Disappointed  Ah  Puck  stamped  her  Chinese 
shoes  and  bit  her  painted  lips  in  rage.  Why 
was  her  carriage  late?  Madam  Ah  Fat,  an 
elderly  companion,  strove  in  vain  to  console 
her.  Ah  Puck  was  furious.  As  time  went  by 
with  no  rattling  coach  in  sight,  angry  tears 
began  to  rain  down  her  painted  cheeks. 

"My  man  fool  me!  I  not  lide!"  she 
screamed.  '  *  Hop  Lee  wife  lide  all  same  'Meli- 
can  woman.  I  got  my  foot !  I  got  my  foot ! ' ' 


216       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

The  irony  of  fate  now  forced  upon  her,  she 
began  a  mad  chase  through  the  street  after 
the  procession  still  forming  in  congested  dis 
tance.  Wabbling  Ah  Fat  could  hardly  keep 
pace;  yet  by  dint  of  perseverance  the  women 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  goal  of  observation. 

At  last  they  faced  the  President's  stand  and 
the  seats  of  the  mighty.  Across  the  way 
wedged  in  as  piles  of  a  breakwater  both  stood 
for  two  long  hours.  Cries  of  "Cut  those 
wires!"  often  weakened  patriotic  cheers;  for 
again  and  again  someone  fainted,  stricken 
with  sickening  steam  of  rising  breaths.  A 
human  jam  invoked  fatality. 

Poor  Ah  Puck  and  Madam  Ah  Fat  timidly 
resisted  burly  forms,  ever  challenging  the  hard 
gained  space  for  their  Chinese  shoes.  Only 
intervention  of  an  officer  saved  them  from 
brutal  treatment.  But  at  last  a  long  thrilling 
shout  arose!  The  President  had  come. 

Close  to  obstructing  wires  the  Celestial 
women  pressed,  while  their  curious  eyes  be 
held  a  man  honored  and  beloved  of  nations. 
Then  from  a  chariot,  clouded  in  thousands  of 
white  carnations,  illumined  with  the  golden 


THE  AWAKENING  217 

color  of  the  State,  drawn  by  six  white  horses, 
William  McKinley  alighted.  Without  her 
alds  or  guards,  he  stood  before  his  countrymen. 

A  human  sea  of  upturned  faces  swayed 
about  him  and  beneath  him;  to  each  one  he 
gave  the  smile  of  a  true  American  citizen. 
Amid  deafening  enthusiasm  he  caught  and  held 
anew  the  hearts  of  all.  In  the  splendid  on 
coming  procession  he  seemed  to  feel  alike  the 
devotion  of  old  men  and  children.  On  the  Pa 
cific  Slope  he  found  united  love.  Loyal  sub 
jects  born  beneath  foreign  flags  were  every 
where,  while  one  by  one  passed  tributes  to  his 
popular  administration.  School  children, 
clubmen,  United  States  soldiers,  Castillians, 
Mexicans,  free  sons  of  African  descent,  Chi 
nese,  Christianized  and  heathen  to  the  full  ex 
tent  of  Oriental  grandeur,  all  formed  a  line 
to  do  their  President  honour.  Millions  of  per 
fect  flowers  turned  petaled  faces  upward. 
And  above  the  exquisite  scheme  of  moving 
grace  and  color  the  man — the  President — 
stood  out  alone. 

Slowly  the  splendid  spectacle  moved  on; 
then  Ah  Puck  held  her  breath,  for  the  jaws  of 


218       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

the  great  Mongolian  dragon  stood  open  with 
the  fierce  charge  of  Lem  Gay's  golden  prod. 
The  Celestial's  moment  had  arrived.  Laven 
der  and  green  forms  swayed  beneath  the  plung 
ing  monster.  Like  a  mad  devil  it  leaped. 
Athwart  its  glistening  back  danced  sunbeams. 
A  block  away  the  sinuous  gorgeous  tail  rose 
up,  and  fell,  with  the  frantic,  mighty  will  of  se 
questered  sweating  heathen. 

And  thrice  did  the  beast  bow  low ;  thrice  did 
the  golden  fork  of  Lem  Gay  compel  obeisance 
to  the  ungilded  throne  of  the  United  States. 
And  thrice  the  crownless  king  of  a  republic 
acknowledged  the  allegiance  of  Chinatown. 
With  cordial  smiles  he  promised  humane, 
square  treatment.  Knights  of  the  Golden 
Dragon  all  read  fresh  assurances  of  protection 
in  the  kind  face  above  them,  while  beneath  the 
ribs  of  the  dragon,  civilized  emotions  took  root 
regardless  of  creed  or  dogma. 

For  Ah  Puck,  wedged  to  the  pavement  by 
thrusting  forms,  the  passing  show  was  a  revela 
tion  of  delight.  Pride  in  the  performance  of 
her  spouse  had  entirely  abated  her  former 
anger.  Close  by  the  side  of  protecting  Ah 


Qfb 


THE  AWAKENING  219 

Fat,  she  clapped  her  hands  and  jabbered  in 
highest  key.  The  superiority  of  her  nation 
shone  out  conclusively  when  the  Chinese  Board 
of  Trade  went  by  in  hacks,  augmented  by 
American  coachmen.  The  honorable  repre 
sentatives  of  the  old  quarter  were  arrayed  in 
kingly  purple,  each  golden  chin  supplemented 
by  a  long  false  beard.  All  was  indeed  wonder 
ful  !  Heap  like  tales  of  festival  days  in  a  far 
away  home  of  brilliant  ancestors.  Wider  and 
wider  stretched  Ah  Puck's  eyelids;  then  the 
pressing  of  the  great  crowd  overcame  her. 

As  the  procession  moved  forward,  bands 
played  in  the  distance,  but  alas!  the  wife  of 
Lem  Gay  no  longer  heard  music.  Against  the 
breast  of  Ah  Pat  she  swayed  unconscious  of  her 
long-delayed  chariot  now  rattling  down  the 
street.  The  patrol  wagon  had  arrived  and  a 
policeman's  desecrating  arms  dragged  poor 
Ah  Puck  forward.  Clang!  clang!  and  the 
right  of  way  was  theirs. 

But  an  hour  later  a  marvelous  thing 
happened  at  the  Receiving  Hospital,  where,  in 
a  dim,  fresh-smelling  room  of  the  maternity 
ward,  Ah  Puck  lifted  her  head  to  listen. 


220       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

Music  once  more — heavenly!  divine!  Was 
ever  sound  so  sweet?  A  white-capped  nurse 
bent  down,  smiling. 

"  You  must  not  move  now,"  she  commanded. 
The  dark,  elaborately  dressed  head  came  up 
again. 

* '  Let  me  lookey, ' '  she  pleaded.  ' '  I  likey  see 
one  time — I  likey  know  that  good  luck!" 
Madam  Ah  Fat  bounded  officiously  forward 
with  a  bundle  and  the  high  priestess  of  cap  and 
apron  raised  one  corner  of  a  blanket;  some 
thing  sneezed. 

"Little  man  clatch  heap  cold!"  the  Chinese 
woman  cried  in  glee.  Ah  Puck's  brown  hand 
reached  out  with  new  solicitude  and  drew  the 
cover  quickly;  then  a  blast  of  Celestial  gongs 
ended  a  maternal  tableau ;  for  the  great  Mon 
golian  dragon  again  swayed  in  the  street  be 
low.  Heathenish  din  rent  the  birth-chamber. 
Ah  Puck  smiled.  She  knew  that  her  lord,  Lem 
Gay,  was  now  returning  to  the  old  quarter  with 
the  victorious,  disbanded  Chinese  division. 
Faint  color  tinged  her  cheeks.  She  laughed 
softly. 

Ah  Fat  rushed  to  the  open  window  with  a 


THE  AWAKENING  221 

roll  of  blankets.  She  thrust  the  bundle  forth, 
screaming  at  the  top  of  her  voice,  "Lookey 
Lem  Gay !  Lookey  you  up !  Lookey  this — ! ' ' 
the  announcement  was  not  finished.  The 
nurse  shut  the  window.  From  the  bed  Ah 
Puck  called  eagerly.  She  spoke  in  her  native 
tongue,  her  dark  eyes  blazed  as  cut  jets. 

"Tell  not  my  man!"  she  cried.  "I  will  not 
have  him  learn  great  joy  from  you.  Say  only 
his  woman  makes  one  little  call  from  home; 
one  little  sick  time.  Say  I  be  back  pletty  soon 
— four  days.  Say  I  glad  I  stay  hospital — nice 
clean  sheets.  Four  days  Ah  Puck  come  home 
— be  good  wife." 

"Go  at  once,"  the  nurse  commanded  as 
Madam  Ah  Fat  shuffled  from  the  room.  In 
the  distance  the  clang  of  Chinese  gongs  grew 
dim;  crowded  streets  thinned;  the  lull  of  an 
eventful  morning  had  begun,  and  Ah  Puck 
slept. 

Refreshing  slumbers  marked  the  young 
mother's  next  few  days;  then  she  began  to 
watch  for  her  lord.  On  the  evening  of  the 
fourth  day  the  dark  head  lifted  anxiously  from 
its  pillow.  Ah  Puck  was  listening.  A  Chi- 


222       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

nese  tread  outside  the  door  filled  her  with  joy. 

Only  Ah  Fat  shuffled  in,  gaily  dressed,  elate. 
Her  shining  oil-cloth  street  costume  and 
flower-decked  head  betokened  importance. 
She  fanned  excitedly  and  broke  into  Chinese 
confidences.  Her  tongue  clipped  sharply  with 
wild  disclosures.  Great  things  had  happened. 
Ah  Puck  had  missed  much. 

The  old  quarter  was  in  confusion.  Tongs 
were  at  war!  Police  had  swooped  down  on 
fan-tan  dens.  More  thrilling  than  all,  an 
open-day  murder  had  just  been  committed. 
Old  Chung  Foo  had  been  sent  at  last  to  the 
land  of  spirits!  The  great  gambler  now  lay 
dead  on  his  laquer  bed.  The  inner  apartment 
of  old  Chung  Foo's  house  was  open  to  the  po 
lice. 

"No,  Lem  Gay  not  know.  Lena  Gay  not 
home — he  out  Pasadena  hunting  job.  Lem 
Gay  go  back  cook  boarding-house — come  see 
Ah  Puck  pletty  seen — perhaps  not  till  to-mor 


row.'1 


Disappointment  touched  the  corners  of  the 
young  wife's  mouth.  "You  tell  my  man?" 
she  demanded. 


THE  AWAKENING  223 

' '  I  not  tell, ' '  Ah  Fat  answered.  * '  I  say  you 
bleak  leg — stay  hospital — no  can  walk.  I  say 
kind  lady  give  heap  nice  clean  sheets." 

Then  came  a  knock;  the  next  moment  Lena 
Gay  entered. 

"Heap  big  j  oke,  "cried  Ah  Fat.  "  You  man 
say  he  not  come  this  day."  The  attendant 
nurse  smiled,  moving  to  the  window. 

There  was  a  shrill  cry  from  beneath  the 
blanket  at  the  side  of  Ah  Puck.  Impassible 
Lem  Gay  started,  then  bent  above  his  wife. 

"You  not  know— Ah  Fat  not  tell?"  Ah 
Puck  slipped  the  edge  of  the  blanket  and  be 
hold!  Lem  Gay's  angel  sleeves  trembled. 

"You  likey  you  little  man  child  ?"  whispered 
Ah  Puck.  "I  say  good  luck  come  sure,  when 
Plesident  make  bow  to  big  dragon — len  I  not 
see  any  more.  You  glad  I  bling  you  little  man 
child?" 

She  laughed  softly  as  she  tossed  the  blanket 
entirely  aside. 

"Two  men  childs!"  she  proclaimed  trium 
phantly.  "Now  you  likey  me  heap  much — 
pletty  sure — all  time?" 


THE  BLACK  LILY 

IN  the  old  quarter  of  Los  Angeles  Celestials 
were  waiting  for  Chinese  New  Year. 
The  glad  season  was  at  hand  when  both  old  and 
young  make  merry.  Only  San  Lu,  the 
"Black  Lily,"  was  disconsolate.  She  was 
lonely  and  fat  and  sick.  At  last  everyone 
ignored  her  existence,  while  even  Moon  Dee, 
the  slave  girl,  stayed  long  upon  the  street. 
San  Lu  heard  festive,  holiday  noises  with 
anger.  tWhy  was  she  forgotten?  Her  Chi 
nese  shoes  shuffled  wearily  when  she  tried  to 
walk  and  her  breath  came  hard.  The  hand  of 
a  devil  was  pressing  against  her  heart.  In  a 
gold  lacquer  box  were  black  pills,  now  San  Lu's 
only  consolation.  She  took  one.  On  the  wall 
a  mirror,  enriched  on  either  side  by  embroi 
dered  silk  banners,  reflected  her  dull,  bloated 
face.  She  was  no  longer  beautiful.  Two 
light  streaks  marked  the  center  of  the  Black 

224 


][fOON  DEE,  the  slave  girl. 


THE  BLACK  LILY  225 

Lily's  painted  cheeks;  yet  to-day  she  did  not 
repair  the  ravage  of  hot  tears.  She  was  too 
sick  and  forlorn  to  care  about  anything  but 
temporary  relief,  and  that  came  with  a  black 
pill.  Although  she  had  paid  the  great  Doctor 
Faun  much  money,  he  would  not  remove  the. 
devil's  hand.  No  merciful  joss  listened  to  her 
appeal  when  she  burned  many  prayer-papers 
and  rich  offerings. 

Life  had  grown  stupid  and  hard  to  San  Lu. 
The  approach  of  Chinese  New  Year  brought 
her  only  strange,  desolate  yearning.  Outside, 
the  day  was  crisp,  charged  with  ozone  from  dis 
tant  snow-peaks  while  the  old  quarter  seemed 
freshened  in  view  of  an  idle  week  to  come. 

Into  San  Lu's  best  room  where  Oriental 
clutter  expressed  wealth  and  former  state, 
there  came  no  fresh  breath  of  air.  All  was 
tightly  closed  and  stifling.  On  a  carved  teak- 
wood  table  stood  a  Canton  bowl  filled  with 
stones  that  held  upright  clusters  of  Chinese 
lilies  blooming  amid  tall  green  stalks.  Sick 
ening,  holiday  fragrance  pervaded  the  shack; 
yet  no  friend  dropped  in  to  wish  San  Lu  good 
luck  for  the  coming  year. 


226       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

The  " Black  Lily's"  downfall  and  doom 
were  both  accepted  throughout  the  quarter. 
In  upper  circles,  including  respectable  women 
— wives  and  daughters — she  was  scorned,  if  re 
membered  at  all,  and  to-day  those  of  her  own 
class  were  too  busy  to  regard  her  plight  even 
through  curiosity.  No  one  cared  that  she  was 
dying  by  inches,  alone  and  neglected.  San  Lu 
had  no  friend. 

At  last  she  began  to  listen  desperately  for  the 
tambourine  of  the  "Jesus  woman."  Perhaps 
the  "Jesus  woman"  would  find  time  to  come. 
Anything  seemed  better  than  to  be  left  alone. 

Outside,  spitting  fire-crackers  exploded 
every  minute.  Festive  sounds  made  San  Lu 
wild  with  longing.  She  wished  once  more  that 
the  girl  in  dark  blue,  with  the  ugly  bonnet, 
would  sing  a  song  and  beat  the  tambourine; 
then  perhaps  the  devil  might  be  frightened 
away  and  stop  pressing  against  her  heart. 
The  "Jesus  woman"  was  kind  and  San  Lu  did 
not  resent  a  lecture  on  sin  which  she  vaguely 
understood.  To  the  daughter  of  shame, 
wrong-doing  seemed  but  incidental  to  arrest 
and,  for  many  months,  the  "Black  Lily"  had 


THE  BLACK  LILY  227 

paid  no  fine.  She  was  rich  and,  now  that  she 
was  sick,  policemen  no  longer  annoyed  her. 
Moon  Dee,  the  slave  girl,  went  and  came  at  will, 
while  no  prying  "cop"  broke  into  the  poor  lit 
tle  shack  or  raised  uproar  in  the  side  alley  in 
wThich  it  hid.  Life  had  long  been  monotonous. 
In  an  elemental  way  she  felt  just  deserts ;  was 
mad  with  fear  when  she  thought  of  her  pros 
pective  trip  to  the  spirit  land.  The  Salvation 
Army  girl  had  not  made  clear  a  simple  expe 
dient  found  through  repentance,  and  to  San 
Lu's  Oriental  mind  faith  was  too  tame  to  be 
convincing.  The  tragedy  in  far  Cathay, 
where  a  father's  perfidy  sold  her  to  a  slave 
trader  sailing  for  America,  compelled  her  to 
accept  fate;  yet,  withal,  she  had  lived  to  buy 
herself  free,  to  become  both  rich  and  important 
in  the  Celestial  underworld.  Until  the ' i  Black 
Lily"  grew  sick  and  ugly  she  had  been  queen 
of  her  degraded  class. 

Now  everything  had  changed,  and  at  times, 
the  forgotten  sinner  was  mad  with  fear.  To 
day,  in  her  tightly  closed  shack,  she  felt  no 
interest  in  life.  She  would  not  gamble  as 
women  of  the  street  all  did;  for,  with  vague 


228       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

precaution,  she  was  secretly  hoarding  money 
for  her  eventual  departure  to  the  Spirit-Land. 
Hop  Woo,  the  great  lawyer  of  the  Quarter, 
took  care  of  her  capital,  always  to  look  in 
scrutable  if  curious  strangers  remarked  on  his 
client's  wealth.  Chinese  bankers  were  forced 
to  treat  the  " Black  Lily"  with  enjoined  re 
spect.  But  time  was  passing.  San  Lu 
thought  of  little  but  the  devil's  hand  pressing 
against  her  heart.  Now,  at  last,  she  began  to 
fight  with  all  her  strength  against  the  odds  of 
dissolution.  She  must  prepare  for  the  inevi 
table. 

Hop  Woo  came  often  to  the  shack  in  the  al 
ley  where  the  sick  woman's  business  was  duly 
arranged.  The i '  Black  Lily ' '  went  from  home 
no  longer.  Her  dark,  shining  street-costume 
hung  on  a  peg,  neglected.  She  wore  only  soft 
silk  garments  thickly  padded  for  winter's 
transcient  chill.  She  was  careless  about  her 
hair,  while  the  splendid  long  earrings — the 
envy  of  every  rival — became  too  heavy.  The 
devil's  hand  was  pressing — always  pressing! 
San  Lu  had  now  no  pride.  But,  on  the  last 


THE  BLACK  LILY  229 

day  of  the  dying  year,  Moon  Dee,  the  slave 
girl,  once  more  dressed  her  mistress  royally; 
then  hastened  away  to  find  Hop  Woo. 

Although  the  demand  of  the  season  tempted, 
the  lawyer  lost  no  moments  in  answering  the 
summons  of  his  rich  client.  Subsequent  visits 
to  San  Lu  had  prepared  him  for  a  final  respon 
sibility.  Hop  Woo  smiled;  was  nowise  un 
nerved  at  the  sudden  call  of  the  " Black  Lily." 
Already  he  had  been  entrusted  with  gold  to 
buy  off  every  evil  ghost,  and  all  devils  en  route 
to  the  celestial  Spirit  Land.  He  was  ready 
for  business.  The  sick  woman,  richly  clad, 
seated  in  a  grand  red  lacquer  chair,  calmly 
faced  him.  The ' '  Black  Lily ' '  had  dressed  for 
the  last  act  of  her  career.  Once  more  her  hair 
was  oiled  and  studded  with  pins  and  orna 
ments.  The  long  earrings  dangled  against 
painted  cheeks;  on  her  arm  she  wore  a  good- 
luck  bracelet.  Chinese  lilies  made  sickening 
perfume.  There  was  again  an  air  of  cere 
mony  for  the  shack  in  the  alley. 

Strange,  desperate  dignity  possessed  the 
"Black  Lily";  for  even  yet,  she  might  re- 


230       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

strain  Hop  Woo's  cupidity,  humble  him  before 
her  wealth  and  lingering  power.  The  lawyer 
bowed  low. 

Outside,  spitting  fire-crackers  made  prelim 
inary  celebration  for  the  New  Year,  only  a  few 
short  hours  away.  Much  was  to  be  arranged, 
and  nothing  must  be  overlooked  in  the  final 
bond  of  agreement.  San  Lu's  executive  force 
stood  out  in  strange  contrast  to  the  lazy,  ig 
noble  life  she  had  led.  Almost  royal  atmos 
phere  pervaded  the  little  room  where  she  sat 
in  the  red  lacquer  chair,  dictating  precautions 
for  her  approaching  demise.  San  Lu  had  at 
last  extinguished  the  Salvation  girl's  threat  of 
everlasting  fire,  to  accept  with  elemental 
courage  a  host  of  oncoming  Chinese  devils. 
Her  hope  was  to  outwit  every  evil  ghost  and 
travel  safely  to  the  untried  Spirit  Land.  She 
at  once  began  to  enumerate  important  items 
for  her  grand  funeral. 

Hop  Woo 's  fee  had  been  decided  upon,  and  he 
was  now  no  longer  cold  to  the  " Black  Lily's" 
interests.  To-day  he  gave  her  fresh  assurance 
of  devotion.  He  would  attend  to  everything; 
nothing  should  be  forgotten.  Hired  mourn- 


"Black  Lily"  had  dressed  for 
the  last  act  in  her  career. 


THE  BLACK  LILY  231 

ers,  bell-men,  and  gong  beaters  should  rest  no 
instant,  when  once  the  ghost  of  San  Lu  had 
been  given  up.  No  moment  of  silence  should 
make  lurking  devils  bold.  For  days  and 
nights  hellish  noise  should  prevail  within  the 
shack;  then,  at  last,  the  body  of  the  " Black 
Lily"  lying  in  state,  might  go  safely  forward 
to  the  Chinese  cemetery.  The  hearse  should 
be  dressed  with  flowers  and  charms  against  ac 
cident,  and  there  would  be  many  hired  hacks 
filled  with  hired  mourners.  Horses  drawing 
open  carriages  must  be  driven  by  gaily  dressed 
countrymen,  not  by  white  devils  of  the  plaza 
stable.  At  the  open  grave  every  care  must  be 
taken  to  lower  the  grand  coffin  amid  hideous 
din,  while  on  clods  yet  freshly  turned  should 
rest  a  roasted  pig  and  manifold  dainties  pre 
pared  for  San  Lu's  hungry  soul. 

Thus  all  wTas  stipulated  in  the  bond. 

Hop  Woo,  never  so  profound  as  now, 
brushed  in  details  on  a  sheet  of  Chinese  paper, 
then  blandly  smiled, — every  condition  in  the 
bond.  San  Lu  rose  exultant  and  all  that  day 
took  black  pills ;  felt  stronger.  By  early  even 
ing  she  had  a  wild  desire  to  look  down  once 


232       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

more  on  the  little  world  she  had  known  so 
long.  Superhuman  strength  seemed  hidden  in 
her  tottering  limbs.  She  would  climb  aloft  to 
a  back  balcony  of  the  shack.  Step  by  step  she 
took  the  risk. 

In  season's  past,  San  Lu's  upper  platform, 
planted  before  a  weather-worn  panel  which 
opened  to  disclose  brightly  dressed  slave-girls, 
was  known  to  policemen  as  the  "nest  of  the 
trap-door  spider. "  The  "Black  Lily"  among 
slaves  of  her  household  had  once  been 
the  acknowledged  queen  of  a  Celestial  under 
world.  Now,  on  the  eve  of  the  Chinese  New 
Year,  she  stood  alone  on  the  tragic  balcony 
and  knew  that  she  had  pushed  aside  the  wooden 
panel  for  the  last  time.  Curiosity,  a  distin 
guishing  trait  of  the  Chinese  woman,  overcame 
fear  and  she  bent  forward  to  peer  beyond  the 
alley  into  a  prominent  pocket  of  trade.  Here 
life  was  rushing  and  gay ;  full  of  anticipation. 
San  Lu  longed  to  go  once  more  upon  the  street, 
to  mingle  with  the  throng;  then,  as  she  gazed, 
she  felt  the  hand  of  the  devil  on  her  heart. 
She  seemed  to  suffocate.  Her  presumption 
was  already  punished,  while  the  thought  of  dy- 


mourners,  bell-men,  and  gong 
beaters  should  rest  no  instant,  when  once 
the  ghost  of  San  Lu  had  been  given  up. 


THE  BLACK  LILY  233 

ing  alone  on  the  balcony  sent  her  prostrate 
against  the  rickety  railing.  Evil  spirits  would 
take  her  before  the  precautions  of  Hop  Woo 
could  intervene.  Why  had  she  ventured  on 
the  roof1?  Before  her  eyes  mist  deepened: 
she  was  blind.  Suddenly  in  the  street,  she 
heard  the  voice  of  the  Jesus-woman — the  sound 
of  the  tambourine. 

To  San  Lu's  singing  soul  there  came  sharp 
comfort.  She  sat  up  and  peered  once  more 
into  the  pocket  of  trade,  gaily  dressed  with 
banners  and  lanterns  waiting  for  night. 
Again  she  felt  the  pulse  of  life  and  longed  for 
human  solace.  In  the  distance  she  recognized 
her  pretty  slave  circling  the  block  in  view  of 
adventure.  Moon  Dee's  pale  blue  satin  coat 
embroidered  with  pink  blossoms  flashed  above 
lavender  trousers,  while  the  girl's  dark,  well- 
shaped  head,  adorned  with  a  flower,  proclaimed 
her  joy  in  the  gala  season. 

San  Lu's  eyes  grew  stronger — brighter. 
The  mist  had  gone ;  she  felt  natural.  She  was 
not  going  to  die.  All  at  once  she  saw  every 
thing  with  renewed  interest  and  vain  longing 
for  life.  She  could  not  leave  the  world  of 


234       THE  YELLOW  ANGEL 

light!  In  the  early  evening  sky  the  young 
moon  and  a  star  shone  dimly.  Fragrance  of 
Chinese  lilies  and  rank  odor  of  holiday  cook 
ing  fed  her  nostrils.  But  she  had  no  part  in 
the  happy  season. 

Again  the  bright  costume  of  Moon  Dee  ar 
rested  her  gaze  and  she  wept  because  the  girl 
did  not  return. 

The  devil's  hand  was  pressing!  Sensuous 
attractions  of  the  old  quarter  were  fading — 
and  again  the  mist  was  forming  before  her 
eyes. 

The  dying  woman,  born  to  evil  destiny  and 
pitiful  fate,  began  to  see  through  her  lingering 
heathen  soul.  In  far  China  she  seemed  to  be 
once  more  a  little  girl  in  the  village  built  on 
either  side  of  a  canal.  Her  father,  of  lowest 
caste — a  " water  rat" — was  with  her  in  a  boat 
that  pushed  slowly  away  to  meet  the  river. 
Now  she  was  drifting — drifting — 

But  suddenly  San  Lu  heard  voices  close  at 
hand.  At  last  the  strong  arms  of  the  Jesus- 
woman  were  gently  lifting  her,  and  she 
breathed  again.  It  was  good  to  be  close  to  a 
friend. 


THE  BLACK  LILY  235 

"  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall 
become  whiter  than  snow :  though  they  be  red 
like  crimson,  they  shall  be  as  wool,"  the  girl 
repeated.  Her  voice  was  solemn,  tender. 
The  little  slave,  Moon  Dee,  stood  aloof,  silent 
and  frightened. 

Again  the  ugly  blue  bonnet  bent  above  San 
Lu.  The  Jesus-woman  began  once  more. 
"  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet,  they  shall  be 
come  whiter  than  snow:  though  they — "  San 
Lu's  eyes  opened  wide  and  wistful.  She  sum 
moned  all  her  strength  while  a  smile  touched 
the  parching  lips.  Personal  salvation  no 
longer  troubled  the  wilting  " Black  Lily,"  and 
with  heavy,  paling  hand,  she  pointed  to  the 
slave  girl,  Moon  Dee. 

' '  I — give — you — her, ' '  she  faltered.  ' '  Make 
—her — white." 


THE  END 


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